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ONITED STATES OF AMEEICA. 



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SEABURY &: JOHNSON, 

Manufacturers of 

MEDICINAL, ADHESIVE, CORN, BUNION, COURT, KID, MUSTARD, 
SPREAD, PHARMACEOTICAL AND SURGICAL 

P LASTERS 

OF EVERY DESCRIPTION, IN THE MOST APPROVED FORM. 



Absorbent, Borated, Carbolated, Salicylated and Styptic Cottons, Antiseptic Euca- 
lyptol, Iodoform, and Thymol Gauze ; Roller, Rubber Elastic, Antiseptic Flannel, 
Antiseptic Linen, and Linen Finish Bandages; Cotton-Wool; Gutta-Percha 
Tissue; Absorbent Hospital Lint; Oil-Silk and Muslin ; Protective Oil- 
Silk; Catgut Ligature; Assorted Sizes ; Mackintosh Cloth, Jute, Plain 
and Medicated ; Oakum ; Spongio Pilihe ; Mead's Surgical Dressing 
Paper ; and every variety of Surgical and Antiseptic Dressings, 

Office and Salesroom, 21 Platt STREET, 

NEW YORK. 



HOTELWARWICK 



SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 

A new and first-class Hotel, loo feet north of 
Railroad Station. Elegantly Burnished 
throughout; Elevator and all modern im- 
provements. 

\VM. HILL, Proprietor, 

who is also proprietor of Hill's Mansion 
House, Easthampton, INIass., a first-class 
summer resort, accommodating 150 guests. 
Easthampton, one of the most beautiful towns 
in New England, is reached from New York 
via the N. Y. & N. H. and Northampton 
Railroads. The Author ("Harry Holland") 
is a frequent guest. 



THE OWL 



Spoken of in the poem on page seven was not 
a l/z'e creature, as the reader maj" have sup- 
posed, but a stitffed bird, so cleverly' mounted 
and archly perched upon a crescent above the 
mirror in my den^ that he was often mistaken 
for an animate specimen. 

The taxidermist who arranged this "broad- 
faced turkey" is one of the most ingenious 
workmen in the country. His address is 

C. W. GRAHAM, 

ST. JOHNSBURY, VT, 



A SELECTION OF 



Dialect Poems; 



WRITTEN ON THE RAIL, AND DEDICATED TO THE ARK' 
OF THE GRIPSACK." 



BY , 

''HARRY^OLLAND. 

(h. J. RICHARDSON,) 



WHO, ASIDE FROM THE PLEASANT TASK OF TRYING TO AMUSE HIS ASSOCIATES WITH THl 

COLLECTION OF SCRAPS, HAS THE HONOR TO REPRESENT SEABUJ^Y & JOHNSON, 

MANUFACTURING CHEMISTS, NEW YORK AND I.ONDON. 



Copyright, 1884, by H. J. RICHARDSON. 



BOSTON : 

TRAVELLERS PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1884. 






CO 


NTENTS. '^^^ 


3? 

F 




The Owl . 


Page. 

7 


Stubs .... 


age.. 
59 


Nature 




10 


Rub-a-dub . 




60 


1st Sermon from the 
Preacher 


New 


12 


5th Sermon from the 
Preacher 


New 


63 


Josiah Nettleton . 




15 


The Hoosier Tramp . 




67 


Jane from Kamtuck 




19 


Johannes Oderbracher 




74 


Christine Friebold 




24 


Somebody's Darling . 




78 


Shonny Keppler . 
Excelsior , 




27 
29 


After the Battle . 
The Angler . 




80 
81 


3d Sermon from the 


New 




Diedrich und Heinrich 




82 


Preacher 
Rufus .... 




30 
32 


An Hour in a Hoosier "Justis's " 
Office . . 


84 


Shtop a Leedle . 




34 


Truth .... 




85 


The Siege of Monty Hill 


36 


Loweza Friebold 




87 


Ned's Old Hat . 


. 


37 


OldReub . 




89 


Seltzer Vasser . 


. 


38 


The Mill . 




91 


A Slumber Song . 


. 


40 


Pat's Courtship . 




93 


The Turn of the Game 




41 


The Sword of Bunker 


Hill, 


94 


TheConnaught Boy's L 
3d Sermon from the 
Preacher 


ament, 

New 


42 
43 


6th Sermon from the New 

Preacher 
From Labor to Refreshment, 


96 
99 


Herzberger . 




46 


Butterworth's Thanksgiving, 


100 


4th Sermon from the 

Preacher 
Got Left . 


New 


48 
51 


A Gigantic Monopoly . 
The Wayside Inn 
Ideal . . . . 




102 
103 
105 


By-lo-by . 




52 


Lecture on Suicides . 




106 


Letitia 
Ha! ha! . 




53 
54 


Jack and Jill 

After a Little While . 




107 
109 


My Dog Patsey . 




56 


All's Well . 




III 


The Wandering Jew 




58 


Good-bye . 




112 



(6) 



Dedicatien arid Preface. 



To the great and ever-increasing army of the grip- 
sack, the COMMERCIAL TOURIST, the BACHELOR OF COM- 
MERCE, the "Drummer," and to all good people who 
love Nature, I dedicate this collection of humble songs ; 
not "in response to the desire of many friends," etc., 
but really to do good and make money. 

As it may not be generally known to what extent the 
business of traveling solicitor has grown within a few 
years, it may with propriety be stated here that there 
are in the United States, to-day, upward of two hundred 
thousand "Drummers" on the road, costing their em- 
ployers some six hundred million dollars per annum to 
conduct their business. The writer himself feels proud 
of the distinction of being one among them, and it has 
ever been his desire to raise (morally and socially) the 
standard of the Commercial Traveler. 

Cognizant of the fact that "there are black sheep in 
every flock," and that some men now bearing the title 
above alluded to are a detriment to the craft, I have 
yet to find one who, in his heart, would willfully or 
maliciously disgrace his title. Many people believe that 

(3) 



the " C. T." is a carefully prepared and artfully set trap, 
to catch the unwary, and beguile him into the snare, 
then despoil him of his pelf. But, dear reader, the 
average man who has become entitled to the degree of 
*'B. C." (Bachelor of Commerce), is a. shrewd, energetic, 
persevering, and undaunted ally to the best interests of 
commerce, albeit he often uses enticing means to divert 
the attention of his intended customer ; yet, of the many 
who are called, but few are chosen to fill the responsible 
and arduous task of being a successful Driunjuer. 

It is with the earnest hope of lightening some of your 
cares, and shortening the weary miles, that I address you 
in the role of an impersonator of Dialect; and I sincerely 
trust that you will not too harshly criticise my pen- 
pictures, but patiently await the Autumn of Life, when, 
like the leaves, the color of my songs may change, al- 
though the shape remain. 

It is hardly to be supposed that one so young as the 
Author could summon both sublime and amusing thoughts, 
at will, in the midst of increasing business pursuits, and 
put them in such shape as to be appreciated by the pro 
fessional critic ; but it is to be hoped that they may bring 
to you (and all good people generally) a realization of a 
great truth, that be a man a Gentile or a Jew, a German 
or a Celt, a Mongolian or a Turk, still **a man's a man 
for a' that ; " and should this humble little collection of 
scraps meet your approval, do not give me the praise, for 
it is due to one who has taught me the sweet lesson of 
life cheerfulness f and imbued me with such a sense of 

(4) 



gratitude that I devote one of the foremost places in this 
volume to praise the name of dear old Nature. 

I love her so well that some things she has taught me 
are precious keepsakes. They are treasured in my heart 
as sunshine and gladness, and many a time has the re- 
membrance of her precepts made glad the heart of 
"Happy Harry." 

Living — I loved j but not alone one object. Nay I 
'Twere vain all Nature should lack my esteem : 
Her love I sought to gain ; and, loving her, I saw 
Returned her love and light to me. So when 
My time shall come, I'll go — and bow to 
Her decree. If it be life — I die to live; 
Should it prove death— I I'ved to die. 
May heaven's morn disclose to me 
A home, a resting-place for aye. 

Fac-simile of a postal-card used on the road by the 
Author: — 



^ 



/ am coming on ar about 

A worthy Quaker thus wrote : '' I expect to pass 
through this world but once \ if, therefore, there is any 
kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do, to 
any fellow-being, let me do it NOW. Let me not 
defer it or neglect it, FOR I SHALL NOT PASS 
THIS WAY AGAIN" [for 60 days]. 

HARRY J. RICHARDSON, 

Permanent address, box 2805, Boston, Mass. 



(5) 



NOTTSS. 



THEE JANE MAR' HOSS MENSHUNED IN THESE BUK IS NOT 

ENTURED FORE ENNYTHING BUT SECKONED-CLASS 

MALE MATTER; ALLSO, THEE UTHER IN- 

DEVIDDUALS, MAIL AN' FEE MAIL, 

SPOKEN OF HEREIN. 



THEE ORTHUR. 



Wit ®utl 

[A Poetical Romance.] 

In a quaint old country villa, 
Flanked by porch and ancient pillar, 
Is my den, where I sit, pensive, 

Thinking of the old and new, 
As I smoke my fragrant concha, 
And anon sip draughts of Mocha ; 
While above my l\,ead, "old Croaker " 

Flutters, shakes, and (pensive, too) 
Opens wide his wondrous orbits 

As he calls, " T'whit ! t'whoo 1 " 

All about me, in confusion, 
Manuscript of late effusion 
Lie in scattered heaps and masses ; 

Mingled are the old and new. 
I look peering in a mirror. 
As the shadows deepen, nearer, 
Dreaming of the one life dearer — 

Than my own, if it be true ; 
While the owl above me flutters. 

Gapes, and screams, " T'whit ! t'whoo ! 

In a sort of aberration, 

I sit thinking of my station, 

Of my kin and near relation — 

Wondering if it all be true 
That this earth is elemental, 
And we mortals supplemental, 
But in death become immortal, 

When our journey here is through. 
Still the owl doth blink, and faintly, 
Feebly cries, " T'whit ! t'whoo ! " 

(7) 







*.e. ^v-o-v\A-/ 



Lying at my feet, a creature — 
Genus canine — from Dalmatia : 
Lithe of limb, correct in feature, 

Is my trusted friend and true. 
All about me are the relics 
Of my wanderings in the tropics ; 
Strewn among them, ancient lyrics 

Of the sages, old and new. 
Nothing breaks the solemn stillness 

Save the owl's " T'whit ! t'whoo ! '' 

Resting on a bit of lava, 

Is a quaint old vase from Java ; 

And behind, an ancient salver, 

Fashioned by a famed Hindoo. 
Here and there a bit of sketching. 
Ecru work and curious etching; 
Rare, odd bits I've been collecting 

From all countries, old and new. 
Here is peace and quiet ever, 

Save the owl's "T'whit! t'whoo ! " 

As I dreamed (soon lost in slumber), 
There was naught else I remember 
But that angels, without number, 

Came as friends, — the old and new, 
And with joy I was transported. 
Soon my weary soul peace parted. 
But as sudden then I started, 

Waking only but to view 
The sage owl, who solemn murmured 

Nothing but " T'whit ! t'whoo ! " 

Then it was that I lamented 

That my new friends soon departed, 

(8) 



And I tried to feel contented 

With my lot. This end in view, 

I redoubled my endeavor 

To be true to self, and ever 

Make the most of life, and never 

Scorn the old friends for the new. 

As a witness of my promise, 

Chirped the owl, '* T'whit! t'whoo 




S) 



*|nltir$. 



Nature, I love thee ! and I'd bask 

Within thy welcome heart awhile : 
No greater pleasure do I ask 

Than live within thy sunny smile. 
Thy love in all around I see ; 

There is no void — no faulty space; 
Forever in my mind thou'lt be 

If I may daily see thy face. 

The sun shone brightly, and its ray 

Dazzled mine eye, as languidly 
I dropped to rest, one summer day, 

On mossy bank. There, pensively, 
I pondered on the ways of life, 

Its varied lessons, and its cares ; 
The love, the joy, the pain, and strife, 

The ripened sheaves, the thorny tares„ 

I laid me down beneath an oak, 

Where, shaded by its gen'rous leaves, 
I listened to the cheery song 

Of reapers, binding up their sheaves. 
The music seemed to cast a spell 

About me as I lingered there ! 
And influences too sweet to tell. 

Were drawn unto me from the air. 

The lowing kine upon the lea 

That stretched before me, and the brook 
vVhich gamboled on toward the sea, 

The cooling shadow of my nook. 
All seemed so peaceful and serene ; 

The little birds above my head, 
The meadow-land, whose verdure green 

Made softest carpet to the tread, — 

(10) 



They seemed united, and to say, 

" This is God's handiwork, my son ; 
And Nature, laboring her own way, 

Sees the Creator's work is done.'* 
So time rolls on, and seasons change, 

With sunshine, shadow, summer rain 
While Nature doth all things arrange, 

Repeating life's stern work again. 

I mused no longer, for 'twould seem 

That life, unless I did my part, . 
Was nothing but an idle dream. 

I took this lesson to my heart, 
As, moralizing, this I learned : 

That what was left of life for me 
Was little, as I'd just discerned; 

The next scene was — eternity. 

So, rousing from my summer dream, 

I rose to labor, with my heart 
Imbued witH gratitude and joy, 

That still a chance to do my part 
Was open ; and to so improve 

My physical and mental power. 
That time itself could not remove, 

Though cloud and sun combine to lower, 

The impulse which that day I gained 

To do whate'er there was with might. 
But — come now! if it had not rained, 

I might have stayed there until night. 
However, you will take my part. 

At least to say the point is good. 
And, coming freely from the heart. 

It offers to the mind good food. 



(II) 



l$t firman fram i\t 'ffut Jvu^n. 

*' My breddren ! fo' de fust time now 
I'se come to dis yer town 
T' 'splain de Gospel ; and de truf — • 
I'se gwine to lay kt^ down. 



" I wants yer to bin listnin', 
An t' bar de Word ob God ; 
To-day I'se gwine to p'omulgate 
'Bout ole Arion an' his rod. 

" Fustly, my breddren, dat ar man 
Done lead dem chillen froo 
A heap ob trouble — ^dy'e see? — 
Befo' dat home dey view. 

" Now Arion, him got mighty peart, 
Tuk Moses partner dar ; 
Hit tuk a ter'ble heap ob time 
To git bofe notions clar ! 

" But dey riz rite up from Egyp' Ian' 
An' tole ole Faro no ! 
De lash dey wa'n't a gwine to stan', 
Fer dey war boun' to go ! 



" I don't want any ob de coons 
In de gallery ober dar 
To 'sturb dis meetin' any mo' ! 
You — stop dat pulHn' ha'r! 

(12) 



' I tell you, sinners — sure's yer born 

Dar's gwine to be less noise. 
Will Brudders Downey, Jones, an' Horn 
Jes' git among deni boys? 

' Now, breddren, I'll tuk up de fred 
Ob my prevarication, and — 
Hit dat niggah on de head, 
Else I 'smiss de congregation ! 

' Continuin' now wid my remarks, 

Dem chillen couldn't stan' 
Dat onery P'aro an' his hos'; 
Dey pined for Canaan's Ian'. 

' Soon in de mornin* dey riz up, 
As ca'm as dey could be, 
And trabbled till dey reached dat sho' 
Dat's by de big Red Sea. 

"Yes, breddren, dis yer Arion bold, 
App'inted fo' de Lawd, 
Done smote a rock ! out flew dat stream, 
And fill up all deir gourd. 

"■ Fer dey was thirsty ; dey had come 
Free hundred mile or mo' ; 
But wen dey lef ' ole Faro's house, 
Fergot fer t' shut dat do' ! 

"Ole Faro done come bilin' down; 
But Arion, him dat quick, 
He fotch dem chillen to de sho', 
An' stretch out daf ar stick I 

(13) 



*' De wabes roll back ! dat sea gabe way ! 
Dem chillen all got free ! 
But Faro's hos' done perish dar, 
In de middle ob dat sea ! 

" Hallelujah ! What ye say dar, sister ? 
Whar Moses bin all dis yer time ? 
Wal, io' de Lawd, I couldn't tell 
'Dout spilin' dis yer rhyme ! 

" De quire now sing dat good ole 'sa'm 
De forty- 'leven 'tickler meter! 
And you, Reub Buckman, wak' up dar!- 
You har ? — and pass dat sasser ! '^ 




(14; 



[A Yankee Prototype.] 



Nestled among the gray mountains of Maine, 
(Which, by the way, are historic in fame,) 
Rests a small hamlet of three hundred souls, 
Sheltered from storms by great pine-covered knolls, 
Here, in the quiet seclusion of life. 
On a broad farm, lived a farmer and wife. 
Childless, for many a long, changeful year, 
Lost to the world, not a relative near. 

Fairly possessed of a bountiful share 
Of what was needful to eat, drink, and wear. 
They lived, united in labor and cares, 
Pleasures and griefs, for full forty years. 

" Josiah Nettleton " — that was his name ; 

" See him to-day, to-morrow the same ; " 
Sinewy muscular, strong as a bull. 
Yet of good-naturedness *'jest brimmin' fulL" 

Nose like a meat-axe, eye of a hawk ; 
"Summ'at" decisive when he made talk; 
Clean as an alder, straight as an ash. 
Sharp as a brier, quick as a flash ; 
He was the sort you read about now — 
Firm in conviction, and, I'll allow. 
Nothing would tempt him to be meanly wrong ; 
I never saw him with anger unstrung. 

Some of his gossiping neighbors, I know, 
Said " 'Siah Nettleton wan't very slow 
Closin' a mor'gage or cashin' a note." 
I never judged a man, though, by his coat. 

(15) 



Clad in the old-fashioned homespun of gray, 
Manly in heart, with a pure, simple way, 
Which in itself was enough to insure 
Honest, square dealing with rich or with poor ; 

Upright, unselfish, blunt as a rock, 
Bred from the old-fashioned, pure Plymouth stock. 
Seventy years of sunshine and storm, 
Modeled him in the true pioneer form. 
Such was his character. He was a man 
Fashioned and tempered by God's righteous plan ; 
While his good helpmate — a fit counterpart 
Of his plain nature, as well as his heart — 

Learned the sweet lesson early in life 
How to become a pure, honest wife ; 
Simple and earnest in each word and deed. 
Ever a friend to the worthy in need. 
" Matilda " — that was the name of the wife — 
Was the very essence of old " Si's " life. 
She had odd days, and queer spells, to be sure, 
But ever and always was kind to the poor. 

The sick and afflicted, the weak and distressed. 
All knew " Mother Tildy's " plain Quaker dress ; 
And the love in her keen gray eye assured 
No comfort was lack which could be procured. 
Her voice, low and sweet, like note of a bird. 
Hushed many a heart by anger disturbed ; 
Her creed, plain and simple, the Golden Rule — 
Grand prototype of an old-fashioned school. 

Josiah toiled, and garnered his grain 
" W/ii/e the sun shone ; " yet should the rain 
Drive him indoors — there was plenty to do, 
Mending a chain or setting a shoe. 

(i6) 



Summer was past, and the autumn well spent ; 
Nature was glowing in gorgeous raiment ; 
The barns were well filled with sweet, fragrant hay ; 
The birds warbled softly a farewell lay 

To the woods and meadows, the fields and brooks, 

Where, hidden away in sequestered nooks, 

They had lived through summer, each with its brood ; 

Now they were chanting their great gratitude. 

Harvest was over ; the end of a year. 

With glad holidays and the good cheer 

Of Thanksgiving time, was quite near at hand ; 

Plenty and peace seemed to dwell in the land. 

jfosiah Nettleton's autumn was nigh ! 
The sturdy old yeoman, now sere and dry, 
Would quickly before the cold winter's blast 
Bend low his proud, hoary head — soon, at last. 
His Ufe had been but a pure, honest one, 
And there was naught he had left here undone ; 
'Twas rumored about, 'though, for fact, indeed, 
That he " nQith.QX preached nor practiced a creed 

Of any church, sect, religion, or 'ism, 
And never had wished or received baptism ; 
Nor feared he a devil, or damning hell," 
As Watts and Calvin were once wont to telL 
He had, nevertheless, been upright and just. 
" No matter," said he, "if I go to dust, 
I'm satisfied with my heaven o?t earth ; 
And if there be God, he'll judge of my worth 

" By deeds, free thoughts, and the life I led here. 
If it pleases Him, then I'll go to that sphere 
Where love, as a beacon, shall guide me aright, 
And truth shall befriend, to give me ?nore light." 

(17) 



Slowly, but surely, the aged man failed, 
Hopeful to the last in his faith, nor quailed 
When death placed a mark upon him at last. 
Sinking to rest^ when the long day was past, 

Just as an infant lies sweetly to rest, 
Safe from all harm, on its own mother's breast. 
Humble, indeed, was the man's lowly birth, 
Peaceful and calm his last moments on earth. 
Up from the woodland a soft, gentle breeze 
Swept through the orchard's bare, leafless trees: 
When the day closed, with deep setting sun, 
Josiah Nettleton's labor was done. 




'rrw^r^ 



(i8) 



|ntti from X^^^^w^'^* 

[A Hoss Story.] 
* 
Talkin' o' bosses, brings to mind 

A mar' I owned — the scamp ! 
Ye kin bet yer life the likes o' ker 

Aint tethered 'round f/iis camp ! 
High strung, purty, an'— trot? Well, now. 

Ye should ha' se'd her go ! 
Ye could lay yer pile to win, you bet, 

'Till I whooped one little wAoa / 

Then she'd plank them for'ard feet, 

An' canter jest one side, 
While I — well — I'd be layin' low, 

Clus ter thet critter's hide. 
An' the way ske went war a caution 

Fer common folks fo take ! 
Even to walking — ye h'a. me, — • 

My mar' jest took the cake ! 

She war a onery critter, 

Thet ther' mar' o' mine ; 
Never seed sich a peart one, though — - 

She war one t' ninety an' nine. 
Got her down t' Kaintuck^ 

Summer o' sixty- five ; 
Reckoned sartin I'd fell in luck, 

Sure's I war alive 1 



(19) 



She war a hummer, bet ye' life, 

The prettiest ever born ; 
An' when I tuk her hum to wife, 

She had t' ^knowledge corn / 
Said ''Jajie " war han'somer 'n her! 

I 'lowed hit mout be so ; 
Be as hit mout, 'r be as hit were, 

She could jest git up and go ! 

An' thar lay her beauty, I say : 

Ye could hunt the kentry roun', 
Thar warn't a beast in many a day 

Thet could beat her, I'll be boun' I 
Never druv her ter harness 

'Cept a common halter slip, 
A' empty bag fer a saddle, 

' Thout nary a spur n' whip. 

Oh, she war full o' natur', 

Chuck to the brim, you bet ! 
I set heaps by thet critter; 

She war my on'y pet. 
We moved West, on th' perary, 

An' I tuk my "Jane " along ; 
' Twar ' bout the time our baby, 

The fust one, Jim, war born. 

Wal — squattin' 'mongst the sage-brush, 

'Twan't much fun, I 'low; 
But "Jane " war a pow'ful heap 'o help, 

HauUn' thet ther' plow. 
She tuk right holt, I tell ye, 

'S if she war one of us ; 
Han'led her jest like a child, y' see— 

Still, she couldn't /^/-^^ no wus. 

(20) 



Fer out *n thet ther kentry 

'Twar ter'ble po' fer grass ; 
'Thout much of any fodder, 

An' yaller corn war scace, 
So I druv one day to Bisma'k — 

Never teched th' rein ; 
She went Hke a streak — 

Didn't guess I'd never see 'er again ! 

She cum down to a stiddy lope, 

'Bout 's we druv in town ; 
Didn't hitch — I'd lost my rope ; 

Says I, "She'll stan', I'm boun'." 
Drapped in Siias Bartrani's^ 

Cal'latin' to get some corn ; 
Dog-gone my skin ! when I cum out 

That " Jane " mar' she War gone ! 

I heer'd one whinner, a leetle snort; 

Then a hell-fired pile o' dust 
Riz up — an' the crowd were laffin',- 

I were mad enough ter bust! 
I'd been a-roostin' up on a bar'I, 

A-lushin' down the stuff, 
An' fergot all about the critter, 

While chawin' a hunk o' duff. 

Wal — we hunted all over creation ; 

But, thunder! hit war no use ; 
She always wus a caution 

Whenever she'd git let loose. 
Staid thar a huntin' 'bout a week, 

Then I steered fer hum ; 
Rid on a jackass 's fer's Bull Creek, 

Then had to hoof it some! 

(21) 



War kinder tol'ble bruk up 

When I sot eyes on the ranch, 
An' I felt meaner'n a d 'pup, 

As I war crossin' the branch. 
Wife cum outen to meet me thar; 

Se'd me humpin' along, 
Knowed what wus up — heered me swar, 

Reckoned suthin' war wrong. 

She stood thar 'n' laffed 'n' snickered, 

'N' I thought I'd bust her head ! 
I WHS so tarnal bruk up, 

I didn't know what she said ; 
Fer she cimjured mo. sort o' crazy, 

I could'nt make t'other from which, 
An' my min' were kinder hazy, 

Like a knitter who's dropped a stitch. 

'Till she hild out a letter from Billy, 

(What cum from town thet day) ; 
I bought from him thet ar'yf//<?y, — • 

Bill's a brother o' mine, yer see. 
An' to wind up my story quicker, 

I'll tell ye what Billy said; 
I'll low that I had to "li'ker" 

When over 'n ag'in I read. 

What Bill writ 'twar a wonder ! 

Never s'ed in my life sich luck ! 
/'// be dog-dashed all f thujtder — 

The mar'd run plum to Kaintiick f 
" Let her stay thar ? " why, of course ! 

Don't s'pose I'd tote 'er back? 
Went an' got a ten-summer boss ! 

Tell ye — he aint very slack / 

(22) 



But noth'U ever ek'al thet "Jane," 

The mar' I had from Kaintuck ! 
Tell ye, boy, I'll bet my pile 

Never'U see 'nother sich luck ! 
S'pose she pined and longed t' go 

Back hum ! 'Twerey/^j-/ my luck / 
*' Find her ek'al ? '' Never ! Not 

Like hafi'sotne " jfane ''from Kaintuck. 




V^S) 



ij^mimit "^riiWIit. 



Christina Friebold vorked vone day, 

Down by der meadows, raking hay ; 

She vore a bran new calico gown, 

Dot her fadder had bought ride avay from town, 

Und vas liappy.- 

Der day vas hot, und Christina vas dry, 
So she vent of der brook dot flowed hard py, 
Und crawling under a pridge py der prink. 
She stooped low down, und got of a drink. 

Den feld bedder. 

So g'vick she sit down mit a great big stone ; 
She dinks of hersellef, " I'm all alone;" 
So pulling off stockings, und also her shoes. 
She bathed of der prook her shveet leedle toes 

In der vawder, 

Auber dere vas a feller pehind a big tree, 
Dot Christina Friebold did'nt see; 
Und as he vatched her from vere she stood, 
He look himself shly, but feld puddy good 

By Christina. 

He staid by dot dree 'till he couldn't some more, 
Vile der sveat py his shirt-front like rain it did pour 
So bracing himself he skveezed up his moud, 
Und gife de Dutch varble, dot's sure to pring oud 

Deitcher girls. 

(24) 



Den he coom ride avay mit der blace vere she sat, 
Und vipiiig der moisture from under his hat, 
Said, *' Vigates du already, mine madchen so shane ? 
I coom ofer to see of your fadder again 

Bond dem epples." 

Christina look up vonce, und vispered so low, 
«' Shonny Keppler, I dink me you better vas go 
Und look for your epples some blace besides here ; 
I belief me my fadder don't sell dem dis year. 

Not some more." 

Poor Shonny looked down ; said he ride avay, 
"Christina, I dink how I lofe you vone day ; 
And dot vas der reasons oud, sure as my life. 
Dot I coom by your fadder to get of a vife ] 

D'vas no epples ! 

" Yah ! I lofe you so bedder as nefer vas been, 
Und I dink of ve're married, d'vas better, Christine ; 
So I gone by your mudder, bin yesterday vent, 
Und, so sure as I leef, she gife me consent 

Ride avay. 

"But as for your fadder — veil, now, dot's all right; 
He said how dot I should coom ofer to-night 
Und pick oud a shance of dem fife-acre lot, 
To build by a house, mit der lumber I got. 

Vill you go ? " 

Christina look up of his face yust so shveet, 
Dat Shonny forgot of dem preddy pink feet, 
Vile she smiled— sooch a smile ! — den dropped of her 

head ; 
She vas got by some blushes, but softly she said, 

''Ishdotso?" 

(25) 



vat vas said efter dot I nefer vill tell ; 
Id don't make some different; id sound yust so veil. 
I dink how I gife of der lofe part de best ; 
So now, of you bleeze, you can guess by der rest. 

Ain't it? 

Time dook a big shump — de years didn't stay : 
Dey married, und seddled down g'vick ride avay ; 
But Shonny had drubbles, und he vas forlorn, 
For his vife nefer got some shildren to born, — 

Not vonce. 

D'vas hard on poor Shonny — dot's so, anyhow ; 
He begin to get gray, mit his hair vite like snow ; 
Auber bin all de words of dot Webster cuss, 
Der vorstest bin dose, "// might haf bin wuss.^^ 

Don't it? 




(26) 



[A Sequel to Christina Friebold.] 

Old Shonny Keppler, von efening in June, 
Sat py der doorstep, humming a tune 
Of dem by-gone times ; he t'ought of de day 
Ven his vife, Christi?ia^ vas raking hay 

Py der brook 

His pipe, like his life, vas puddy near oud, 
Und he couldn't vissel some more vid his moud, 
Like he used to vonce of a time gone py, 
Und dere vas already big tears of his eye 

Bond old times 

He sat dere leaning upon his cane, 
Und looking, mitout some sense, down der lane ; 
Vile he t'ought of der farm und dose five-acre lotj 
Und der sohn und heir vat he did'nt got. 

Den he sighed. 

Old Shonny vas rich, Christina vas dead, 
Und sefenty years had covered his head 
Vid der frost of so many vinters cold : 
Yah ! Shonny vas getting puddy old. 

For sure. 

D'vas a puddy hard bisness, you bet of your life. 
For a poor old feeler vat yust lose his vife ; 
Und she didn't leaf any shildren pehind — 
Shonny Keppler vas now de last of his kind ; 

Und he cried. 

A shadow coom ofer der old man's feet, 
Auber k'vick he look up, und his eyes did meet 
Dose of anoder man standing py : 
He vas fridened, but didn't know reasons why, 

Already vonccc 
(27) 



D'vas der size und der shape of a man he had known 
Shtill, dis vone vas younger, und didn't vas grown. 
Auber ven he put out to de old man his hand, 
Und said, " Mine frieund, I'ch war from Vaterland,'* 

He got joy. 

Der young man spoke oud, und said ride avay, 
*' I vas coom of der shteampoat, py New York to-day, 
From Sharmany, far avay ofer der vawder; 
Und your broder, vats died long ago, vas myfadder.' 

Dere vas silence. 



Den der old man shpoke, und said to der poy, 
"I vas glad how you coom, for it pring me some joy ; 
I lofed of your fadder, mine broder, so veil, 
Eef I try hard already, I nefer could tell 

How I lofe him." 

Old shonny vent mit der inside of der house, 
Und called der poy too, — it vas shtill as a mouse ; 
But I dink dot der babers vas drawn py der squire ; 
Anyhow, old Shonny vent a leedle bit higher — • 

Mebbe to Heffen. 

For dere vas a sound of much veeping inside, 
Und efery vone felt yust so bad dot dey cried ; 
But /vait py der outside, und soon I did hear 
Yust dis, und no more, as coom py my ear 

Drough der vinder 

" Du bist mine broder's sohn ! " he cried: 
" I vas so glad, now I can died, 
O broder ! I coom vere you are ; 
Here ist rnine leibe sohn und heir / " 

Und he died ! 
(28) 



*'Jmhhi{.'' 



" The shades of night were falling fast," 
As through a country village passed 
A Drummer, with a ten-pound grip, 
Who thought to give the 'bus the slip. 

Excelsior ! 

He landed at the best hotel 

(Where he had got a " mask " named Nell). 

Tired, he booked from M. S. S., 

Then doused the glim, and went to rest. 

Excelsior ! 

When morning broke, a tired head, 
And heart as heavy as cold lead, 
He rose to view a monstrous farce, 
And cursed in verse you couldn't parse. 

Excelsior ! 

What does the trav'ler gain at last, 
When, after sleepless night he passed, 
He ope's the bed? Great the surprise, 
As there he views naught but — (and sighs), 

Excelsior ! 

He cries aloud, '* Say, landlord, pray, 
Is this the best for two a day ? " 
Mine host replies, " I truthful tell ! " 
Says "nibs,'' *' Then you may go to — " well. 

Excelsior I 



(29) 



"My bredderen, you'll 'member how 

Las' Sunday I war wexed, 
An' sister Mary Hopkins asked 

A question 'bout de tex'. 
I disremember jes what dat 

Ar notion war ; but, mark, 
To-day I'se gwine to tell ye 'bout 

Ole Noah an' his ark. 

*' Ole Noah — now, I'll stop right yar, 

And caution onery boys, 
Dat dis yer meetin's goin' on 

Widout no mo' dat noise ; 
Fo'ef yer spec' I'se gwine ter preach 

Wid — bus^ dat niggards jaw! 
I'll tell you, sinner, dat I'll teach 

You pin'ts ob common law. 

*' Among de fustlys, Noah, he 

Done build a 'normous ark ! 
De Scriptur's say 'twas gopher wood ; 

But hit war hick'ry bark / 
An' when dat ship war fin'ly made, 

Dat man ob noble mind 
Done fotch de animals, two by^two, 

Each after his own kind. 

"Dere's de Elephant an' de Whale, 

Monkey, Buffl'er, Lion, Hare, 
Camel, Guinea-pig, Spider, Snail, 

'Long come Mud-turkle, Mis'er Bear. 
Den dere war de slothful Hog, 

Goat, Coon, Jackass, and de Moose ; 
'Possum, Grasshopper, and Dog, 

'Pot'mus, Leopard, and de Goose. 

(30) 



" Bimeby come de Alligator, 

Arm in arm wid Honey Bee : 
You ha'r! 'twas de wise Creator 

Fix hit fo' de little Flea. 
Mis'er Weasel, Brudder Fox, 

Bullfrog, Fly, an' baby Mouse, 
Step one side fer dat ar Ox ; 

Den come Porcupine an' LousCo 

"Lots ob Snakes, and plenty Rats, 

Sprinkled in wid various Bugs ;• 
Tell ye what, wid Sheep and Bats, 

' Twas a curus set ob mugs / 
But I see ye's gittin' tired 

An' — wak' up dat nigga' dar; 
Soun' de timbrel ! chune de harp ! 

An' let's h'ar from Zion's choir! 

"Sing dat good ole ancient hymn 
'Bout de tex' I preach dis day; 
Shout hit out wid all your vim. 
Hallelujah ! Let us pray. 

HYMN. 

*' Noah done build a won'ful ark : 
He built it outen hickory bark ; 
Den placed de animals two by two, 
De elephant an' de kangaroo." 

Umph ! what? 

Talk about your Moses ! 
Glory in my soul ! 

M ah, m ah, m ah, m — 

Sing glory hallelujah ! " 

(31) 



\nhi. 



[To my fried and trusted dog, whose mute companionship has cheered me 
as a faithful friend.] 

Most noble brute I come forth, and show 

Thy talents to the gaping crowd 
Who listen of thy wondrous skill. 

Nor think you that /am not proud 
To own a creature with such grace — 

So lithe of limb, such beauteous shape? 
Intelligence is in thy face : 

Thy glistening eye my thoughts betake. 

My loved companion, by my side 

Be near, and listen to the word,- 
Nor think that I will ever chide ; 

Thy faithfulness my heart hath stirred. 
My dear old '-'■ Rufus /" drop your head 

Upon my knee, and hold apace, 
So when I lay me down in bed, 

Thy mem'ry'l be a saving grace. 

Dear old mute comforter (to me), 

The wag of that proud, arching tail ' 

Is what I only look to see 

To know no trouble doth assail. 
Ring out, ring out thy joyous cry. 

And let me hear the welcome bay. 
As, bounding o'er the hedge, you fly 

To meet me at the close of day. 

(32) 



When thou art old, and tired out 

With hunting for the toothsome bone^ 
/'// every other pleasure rout, 

And live with thee, my dog, alone. 
For faithful hast thou been thus far, 

And, trusting still, I love thee well. 
Who knows but thou my best friend art ? — 

Though mute, yet faithful. Time will tell. 



"RuFUS," — Dalmatian hound, born Jan. i, 1876; weight, 42 lbs.; record 
leap, 29 feet 9 inches, and 5 feet 4 inches clear of all. 

One of the most remarkably sagacious dogs in the known world. 




C33) 



I seen vonce a leedle boy 

Bare mit his feet, 
Ven I vas oud valking 

Von day in der street. 
'Dvas der daypehind yesterday, 

Eef I don't forgeet — 

Shtop a leedle ! 

Yah ! dot vas de dime, 

Und he vas der feller : - 
I fought how I didn't 

Forget me so well — ha ! 
I hollered oud vonce 

To dis newspaper-seller — 

Shtop a leedle ! 

He didn't look back, 

But vent on mit his song ; 
D'vas no use to get mad 

So I vent ride along. 
I vonder eef dot leedle 

Feller vas wrong ? 



Shtop a leedle 



How many times ofer, 

In efery man's life, 
Dere vas someding gone wrong 

By his bisness or vife ! 
Ven I dink of dose drubbles, 

Und fidings vid strife — 

I shtop a leedle / 

(34) 



Vone of dose dimes — 

I couldn't tell ven — 
All of life's drubbles 

Vill bin ofer den ! 
So look by yoursellif 

Ven mad you vas been ! 

Shtop a leedle I 




(35) 



Homeward the " Drummer" wends his way, 

To greet his spouse, and — 'draw his pay! 

The week is closing, and the best 

Part of the trip is Sunday's rest. 

He's tired out, and peevish, too, 

And in no mood for much ado ! 

Thus, entering his domicile, 

He seeks his darling's welcome smile. 

" Hello, my wife ! What's all this bluster ? 
What ! crying, are you, little buster? 
Fie ! fie ! my boy, come here to dad ; 
They shouldn't plague the little lad ! 
No ! no ! — there ! sh — ; don't cry, my boy ; 
See what pa's got — a bran new toy ! 
There, now ! we'll wipe those little eyes. 
(I'll bet to lose if now he cries !) 

"Well, pet, I've — dear me, stop that noise ! — 
Got home again — confound such boys ! — 
I was about to say. There's all that pap 
Thrown up — oh, mercy ! — in my lap. 
Poor little man ! he's got the colic 
(Or some mean thing) ; I've lost my frolic. 
Well, mamma'll take her little pet. 
And papa's going to scoot — you bet!" 



(36) 



;|ih'$ ©lit I ai, 

[To Ned Thurston, one of the " Terrible Two."] 

There it hangs, on an ancient peg 

It's been an actor on many a stage : 
But now 'tis faded, crushed, and old ; 

Like me, it has reached a ripe old age. 
And yet, withal, if it could but speak, 

How many a tale would be told and true ; 
I keep it still for memory's sake, 

When this old hat was new. 

It has traveled with me full many a mile. 

And often deftly bent to my hand ; 
For when 'twas new, it possessed the style 

Of the best and grandest hat in the land. 
Look at it now ! — 'tis shabby indeed, 

With dust-marks sifted through and through '^ 
I cherish it still, as a friend in need, 

When this old hat was new. 

It has visited many mansions grand, 

And queerest tales could tell ; 
It has court'sied to the best in the land, 

And the humblest maid as well. 
Ah me ! I sigh when I think of the scrapes 

My dear old friend went through ; 
And thoughts come back of the long ago, 

When this old hat was new. 

So I'll let it hang on its ancient peg ; 

I'll keep it for sake of its age. 
And think of it kindly throughout my life. 

As an item on memory's page ; 
For a welcome visitor it has been 

(And a friend to the needy, too) : 
I'll ne'er forget the pleasure it gave 

When this old hat was new. 

(37) 



'ztt Tit$$m 



I sthart a prewery, vone time, 

Und also macht dose homemade vine ; 

But opposition cross der vay, 

Pud oud a sign dot very day — 

*' Sel'zer Vasser 1 '* 

He was some temperance feller, yah! 
Und didn't open oud his bar ; 
I didn't know some reasons vhy 
He vas dot day so loudly cry, 

"Sel'zer Vasser!" 

I vas so mad you nefer see, 
Und all dot time my peer vas free ; 
So ven de poys vent home dot day, 
Dot sign vas smashed — kicked ride avay — 

" Sel'zer Vasser ! " 

I yust vas glosed de plinds dot night, 
Und locked my house-door up tight, 
Ven down der street I heard dot cry, 
Und beeples running shouting by, 

" Sel'zer Vasser! " 

I opened oud de vinder, den, 
Und dere I saw a crowd of men, 
Vid also plenty leedle poys : 
Dey shouted oud, vid fearful noise, 

"Sel'zer Vasser! " 

Dot temperance feller in a cart, 
Look up like he vas orful shmart ; 

(38) 



He got a banner vid dose sign, 
*' 'Tis bedder as some peer or vine " — 

"Sel'zer Vasser! 

So mad I vas vone tam fool grown, 
I vatched him drife all ofer town ; 
So k'vick he vas der blace gone oud, 
I heard dose vind pring back dot shoud, 

" S-e-l'-z-e-r — V-a-s-s-e-r ! ' 

I vent to bed ; und in my dream 
I vake up vid von awful schream ; 
But in de morning I got voke, 
Und t'ought it only vas a shoke — 

."Sel'zer Vasser!' 

Mit all de cows dot day I gone 
Up on dose mountain all alone ; 
I look vay down tree hundred feet — 
Jerusalem ! my eyes did meet, 

"Sel'zer Vasser!' 

Dot man und horse dey vas gone died, 
But brinted on dot horse's hide, 
I saw dot maxim blainlydere, 
Und all around und efery vere — 

"Sel'zer Vasser!' 

By home I vas got puddy k'vick, 
To cool my prain, for I vas sick ; 
So dhirsty as a horse. Yust dink, 
All dot next day I had to drink 

"Sel'zer Vasser!" 



(39) 



J, ^hmktv ^u«5> 



Rest thou, my darling ; sleep, baby-girl, 
Dear little tired head, tangled in curl. 
Dimpled hands, clinging so tight to my breast, 
Loosen thy loving hold ; rest, baby, rest. 

There lies my idol, my heart, and my life, 
Peaceful, unconscious of trouble and strife. 
God bless my darling ; angels, draw nigh. 
By-lo, baby-girl ; by, baby, by ! 

I would live always, my baby, for thee; 
Oh, may you ever bring comfort to me ! 
Thou art my last love, the sweetest and best . 
Peace, little tired lamb ; rest, baby, rest. 

Father in heaven, look down this night ; 
Keep my heart's idol safe in thy sight : 
And while my prayer is ascending on high, 
By-lo by, baby-girl; by, baby, by. 




(40) 



1^ Itmt xif i\t §nm. 

What is't ye call hit, dy'e say — 
Thet thar keerd game thet ye play? 
"Faro." Wal, now, I do declar', 
Hit do seem's ef 'twar mighty fair ! 
Ye bet on any in thet thar layout, 
And keep on a-bettin' till they play out I 



Mister, I'll put a pinch on the queen keerd ! 
Thar goes the dust — I ain't afeerd ! 
Come, show up, pardner ; let her go. 
Ha, ha ! I've won, eh ? Wa!, thet's so ! 
Ye kin let her lay — the whole durned pile ; 
Hit's mighty sartain not to spile. 
Hold on a bit ; I'll raise thet dust. 
An' plank the hull lot, win or bust ! 

Whoop ! thet thar's mine ! Say, pardner, come, 
Let's all ban's take a drink o' rum ! 
No ! yer " hain't drinkin'," dy'e say ? 
*' FHur7i the game ^^^ ye'd have me play ? 
Wal, just to please ye, here's the dosh ; 
I'll bust yer dog-goned bank, by gosh ! 

An' thunder an' litenin', hear me holler! 

That d d ole queen tuk my last dollar ! 



MORAL. 

Leave it when you've "got your fill,'' 

Or, maybe, that 'twere better still 

To let the d d game go to — well, thunder ! 



(41) 



1|$ liitnttHtigli ^ntf^ "^mrnnl 

[A Ballad of The Rail.] 

Yara now, fwhile I lightin my dudeen, 

I'll sing you in thrue Irish shtyle, 
Of a swate but desavin' young colleen, 

Who dwelt in the Emerald Isle. 
Shure her name it was Biddy M'Car-ty, 

Her manners were plasing and foine ; 
While her welcome to me was so hear-ty 

She captured this poor heart of mine. 

CHORUS. 

Och hone ! but this illegant la-dy, 
She left me an' married a Bra-dy. 
Divil more of a jog will I work in the bog, 
But I'm off to de Westhern pe-ra-ry. 

Now, I had a copper or two laid away — 

For you know there be changes in wea-ther ; 
As the old sayin' is, *' For a rainy day, 

Look well to the horse an' his tether." 
I thought that me heart was anchored so fasht 

That the divil an' all couldn't shake me ; 
But I coorted so long shure the love didn't lasht ; 

Ah ! she run away wid a Bra-dy ! 

CHORUS. 

Och hone ! but this illegant la-dy, 
She left me an' married a Bra-dy. 
Divil more of a jog will I work in the bog. 
But I'm off to de Westhern pe-ra-ry. 



(42) 



"Chillen, dar's glory in de soun' 
Ob tuneful hearts, dat raise 
A psalm of Zion, as aroun' 

Dis yearth we sing God's praise. 

" Dis day am glorious an' bright ; 
De craps am risin' well ; 
An' all about us in de Ian' 
De buds an' blossoms swell. 

" Nature done 'ray herself dis day 
In weddin' robes so bright, 
Dat God hisse'f can't keep to home 
'Dout showin' sinners light. 

" I'se heerd about dat onery place 
Dat some folks love so well 
To talk about; de fire an' smoke 
Ob an eternal hell. 

" But bress yer hearts, my chillen, no ! 
'Cordin to common call, 
Dar a'int no sich place any mo', 
'Cept right yere on dis ball. 

^' Hell am de conscience, smitin' hard — 
Yer soul — when yer does wrongs : 
I Aspects dat plenty ob it, 'dough, 
Tu some ob us belongs. 

(43) 



" Yer- don't t'ink God would make de yearth, 
"Creatin' all de folk, 
Ter close de show by one gran' smash. 
An' bus' it all in smoke ? 

" Whar am de man done tole yer so ? 
God make de rich an' po' 
Ter glorify dem in his sight, 
Ter make dem larn an' grow. 

** An"* when de fight am ober, 

Him stretch out dat strong arm, 
Ter took yer to his bosom, dere 
Safe from de debbil's harm. 

" An' speakin' 'bout de debbil — him 
Bin nuffin' but a t'ief 
Ob conscience, robbin' ob de soul 
All goodness — leabin' grief. 

" O sinner man, — my sister, too, — ■ 
I tole yer fo' de Lawd, 
Yer better ketch on hebben here. 
An' trus' yer soul ter God. 

" Yer better b'lieve dat kingdom come, 
An' 'stinction 'tween de creeds, 
Won't help yer none ; de judgment day 
Won't stop ter sort de breeds. 

" Jes' hoi' on right smart to de chance 
Ob gittin' glory here ; 
Dar's on'y one creed for us all, 
An' dat's ter be jes' squar'J^ 

(44) 



" De man who does his little here, 
An' does dat little well, 
Can count on hebben po'ful smart : 
He'll nebber see no hell. 

" Now let us bow de head in prayer 
Ter him dat gib de soul ; 
Den,' sister 'Phely, jes' you raise 
Dat good ole ' Jerdan Roll.' 

" An' may de Lam' o' God come down 
Ter chune our hearts dis night 
Ter sing his praisin' mo' an' mo', 
An' live widin his sight. 

" Glory an' de 'onor, chillen, 
'Lelujah to de Lam'. 
Here ends de fust fo' verses 
Ob de forty-secon' psalm." 




(45) 



^^!|er|brgm' 



*' Good-morning! Valk ride inside vonce ; 

I show you someding fine ! 
Es macht nix aus you puy or not ; 

Ich gar nix — allegesine. 
But youst you come ride here, now, und 

I bring my vife to schvear 
Ife got de finest illster vat 

You nefer vonce did vear. 

"D'vas made for Sharlie Bradley, 

But so sliort it vouldn't keep. 
So help me ! of dot fit you vonce, 

I sell him awful sheap. 
Yust you oxamine of de goots ; 

Look of dem buttons now ! 
Sarah, come here ; youst look at dot\ 

A sphlendid fit; dot's so! 

"I tole you vot I done mit you 

Don't give away de brice ! 
Jerusalem ! look, vat a fit; 

See, Sarah! aint dot nice? 
Don't shpeak oud loud — here, don't go vay 

I tole you vat I do, — 
I sell dot illster, now, yust for 

Saehn tollar, yz^sf to you / 

" I vouldn't sold dot (on my life) 

To any oder man 
For less dan schvlef tollar, so ! 

Dot's scheaper as I can. 
But I know of your fader, sure ; 

Ah ! he's a shentlemans, 
To pring sooch shildren up as you— ^ 

Say ! vera you buy dem pants ? 

(46) 



' Ah, ha ! from *' Mervin's ; " yah ! so so ! 

I tole you vat I do, — 
You gife nine tollar und dem pants, — 

(Und dot's a bargain, too), — 
Und I gife you dot Ulster, yah ! 

You couldn't match de shade; 
For, honest, dofs de only piece 

De factory efer made! 

' I hope to die d'vas reg'lar made 

(Und es war saeher BilUch) ; 
Yah, efry single thread ish vool, 

Mit buttons made of silleck. 
Plum-colored lining in der schleves — 

Vat! green, you say, der stripe ? 
Veil, vat's der color of der plum 

Ven plums dey don't vas h-r-r-r-ripe ? 

■ Dot fits you yust like you vas made 

Of plaster, und run in it ! 
You vouldn't took it ? So help me — 

You don't know vat's missed by it. 
But, here, coom on der inside, vonce ; 

I'm hard up so to-day, 
I sell dot coat for yust six tollar — 

Don't gife der brice avay 1 

' Veil, veil ! I didn't nefer seen 

Sooch dimes already yet — ah ! 
I make him ofer for my sohn; 

Yah ! dot's der ilsteretta ! 
Veil, so long, shentlemans, I zay 

Come here vonce, take der coat; 
Das all sarechts — fife tollar. 

//"e made a tollar note/ " 

(473 



4^1^ firman htm i\t lltm frmt^n, 

"Belubbed, we am gathered yere 
To moan de loss, dis day, 
Ob brudder Isaac Livermo' : 
Now, bredderen, lef us pray. 



" Oh, great an' po'ful Fadder, we 
Dis day am gathered yere, 
To moan de loss ob dis yere man, 
An' drap de frien'ly tear. 

*' Yere lies a bit of earth' y clay ; 
De soul dat breathed has fled. 
An' whar? We'll know when Gab'el s trump 
Calls up de numbered dead ! 

*' O Lawd ! dis brudder bin a man 
What lef a vacant place 
Widin dese doahs, so if ye will — 
Please lef him see dy face. 

*' Take not de brack man's soul away, 
Doan scorn de humble cry, 
But open up dem doahs fo' him ; 
O Lawd, doan pass him by ! 

*'Him had a min', him had a heart — 
Him mus' hab had a soul ; 
O Lam' o' God, jes' reach you' han' 
An' roll back Jerdan, roll. 

(48) 



'*King a Jesus, sabe a seat fo' him, 
["Amen!"] O yes, good Lawd ; 
Den teach dy chillen ever mo' 

[" Glory an' de honor ! "] dy Word. 

[" De Lawd bress !"] — ["Amen !"] — ["Hallelujah !"] 

"Good Lawd come down dis day ! 
[" Rock o' my soul ! "] [" Praise de Lam' ! "]— 

My bredderen, eber pray. 

'' Now lef us sing, wid hopin' heart, 
De good song ' Ober Dar,' 
An' keep de faith fo' eber mo', 
De Lawd done answer prayer. 

HYMN. 

" ' When de angels in de mornin', ober dar, 
Open up dem golden doahs, ober dar, 
Get ye ready by de station 
For de great emancipation, 
Get ye ready fo' to trabble ober dar, — 
Ober dar, ober dar. 

" ' Dar's a light in der winder, ober dar. 
Git ye ready by de station, 
Fo' dat great emancipation, 
Git ye ready fo^ to trabble ober dar.' 

" De ways ob God am won'ful, 
His works am po'ful plain ; 
So ef ye want ter sabe de soul, 
O sinner, doan be vain. 

*' Jes' 'member dat de hones' man, 
Who acts upon de squar', 
No matter ef he's brack or white, 
He'll Ian' safe ober dar. 

(49) 



" Yere lies de dus' ob one dat's gone, 
Look yar upon dat clay ; 
O sinner, better git prepared, 
Fo' God's great reckonin' day. 

" Don' fret yerse'f so much about 
De dollars — dey's a pest; 
But jes' keep inchin' right along, 
An' do yer level best. 

" Declar' yerse'f a chile ob God ; 
Be like de ploddin' toad, 
Dat, 'umble 'dough he is, keeps in 
De middle ob de road. 

*' Now, bredderen, look yer las' upon 
Dis po' ole nigga's face, 
An' trus' in God, dat he will show 
His mercy an' his grace. 

" Fadder, dismiss us now dis day 
Wid peace, contentment, grace ; 
We'll lay dis crum'lin' dus' away, 
No mo' ter see his face. 

** An' as we lay de body in 
Its narrer, dismal chest. 
Great God, may we dat's leF behind 
Wid Jesus' love be blest. 

" Comfort de widder an' her chile. 
An' when You calls ag'in, 
Whichebber ob us be de one, 
Prepare us, Lawd, — Amen! 

(50) 



[A Reminiscence of Hoosierdom.] 

Good-morning, sir ! I hope you're well : 
I represent C. Hallowell, 
In spices, teas, dried fruits, ei al.^ 
And on the best man always call. 

My house (I'm told) has in times past 
Made quite a sensible contrast 
Between your honored selves and others — 
I might remark, the Barton Brothers. 

I came here specially to see 
Yourselves, sir \ and it seems to me 
That we might strike up quite a trade : 
In coffees, now, hard cash is made. 

We'll pay the freight to Cincinnat' — 
And give you sixty days, at that ; 
Or, if you'll place a bill on quote 
For three months' time, I'll take a note. 

What ! not an item, do you say ? 
Well, 'tis a most unlucky day ! 
Upon my word, my book's bereft 
Of orders, and I think — I'm left ! 

For, as I live, here comes a dray 
Piled up with goods, '*just in to-day," 
From our competitors in "Wayne." 
Well, good-day, sir ; here comes my train! 

(51) 



^.l-b-l^. 



Slumber on, darling — my own baby dear ; 
Peace to thy little heart, mamma is near. 
Resting your tiny head here on my breast, 
Slumber on, baby boy ; peaceful thy rest. 

Such a sweet blessing, my baby, you'll be ; 
Papa's own image in each look I see. 
By-lo-by, baby dear, sleep on, my boy, 
Mamma's own darling, her pride and her joy. 

Angels watch over thee, keep thee from strife ; 
Mamma's heart fills with the joy of thy life. 
Dear little lamb, you're a comfort to me ; 
Fond hopes, my darling, are cherished for thee. 

By, baby, by-lo-by; by, baby, by ; 
Slumber on, darling, mamma is nigh. 
Dear little image, that fills mamma's heart. 
By, baby, by-lo ; may love ne'er depart. 




(52) 



One of old New England's cities, 

Resting on a pleasant bay, 
Claims the subject I'm discussing, 

Thinking, writing of to-day. 

She is sweet beyond expression, 

Dimpled cheeks, and hands so fair, 

With a warm, brunette complexion 
And a wealth of jetty hair. 

She's petite^ and fine in figure. 

Graceful as a young gazelle, 
With a heart which beats a measure 

To my own, I know full well. 

Ah ! her charms are more than any 

Little woman I have seen : 
She's admired and praised by many, 

Yet my love is known, I ween. 

Would you know this pretty maid ? 

(Were she here, I fain would kiss her.) 
I'd not lose her for the world, 

For this jewel is my sister. 



(53) 



[An Old Man's Soliloquy.] 

" I love the laugh of a little child ! 

It rings like the music of a chime — 
Now loud and clear, then chuckling mild. 

It takes me back to the good old time 
When, perched upon my father's knee, 

I listened to fables from y^sop's book, 
Of " The Fox and Grapes," that hung in a tree, 

And the " Shepherdess with the Golden Crook. 

" 1 can remember just how I laughed. 

Indeed, when I heard the merry shout 
Of the romping boy I just now passed, 

Shouting " Hooray! " and " School is out ! " 
I thought of the time in the long ago, 

When, free from the master's watchful eye, 
I, too, would start, with a grand halloo. 

And breathe the air with a joyful cry. 

" The way I ran, it wasn't slow ; 

One spring, and over the five-barred gate 
(My old bones crack when I think of it now) — 

Nothing would tempt me to stop or wait. 
Over the hill I went with a dash — 

The shortest cut I soon had learned ; 
On past the meeting-house like a flash, 

And every cross-lot I made I earned 

" A rod or two. Now, here at the brook, 
I'd pause a moment to take a drink 
From a cooling spring in a shady nook, 
Then look to see if my bobolink 

(54) 



Had left her nest on the tufted loam : 
A few rods more, and here we are — 

I've reached that dearest spot, called home. 
What do you think of the trip ? ha ! ha ! 

" Now, I think the boys should have their way, 

(For laughter's the music of the soul,) 
And laugh, if they will, the livelong day, 

With their glad ha! ha ! and trilling roll. 
The youthful cup, full of happy thought 

And pleasure, will soon be quaffed : 
Life's sterner battles will have to be fought, 

Then they'll think of the time they laughed. 

*' To me this thought a comfort brings 

In the midst of sorrow and pain, 
And a boyish laugh with music rings, 

While school-days come again. 
My heart beats throbbing within my breast 

With joy, whenever I see 
The rugged boy, with laughing jest, 

The same as I used to be. 




R^^,^^^^ 



(53) 



!? Jttg Jnimi. 



A FUNNY TRICKSTER. 
(Born June 25, 1880; age 8 months; weight 14 lbs.) 

I kape a dog, and his name is " Pat; " 

Shure, the divil's own dog is he ! 
He'd murther the sowl of any rat, 

Be it big as iver ye see. 

His ears are cut short, and his legs are not long, 

Wid his tail drove in behind ; 
An' now, if ye'll listen, I'll sing a song — 

Shure, ye niver heard wan of its kind. 

Oho-ho ! this darlint of a dog 

Moriarity^ave to me ; 
Now, he'd shake the wather out of a bog, 

Such a wondtherful dog is he. 

Jimmy Kerrigan came the ither day, 

To see phfwat he cud see ; 
Yara ! dis same dog was 'atin' hay. 

Whin he lepped right over me knee. 

" Ka-hae-shen, Patsey ! " says I ; " who's dere? 
Such a nize ye're makin' de night ; 
Come in, ye blaggard, whoiver ye are . 
Be de powers ! there'll be a fight. 

" Pat will take the bosom of your pants 
An' chew thim into a bundle ; 
G-wan away, ye pirate of Pinzance ! 
Take yer luggage, now, an' tumble ! " 

(56) 



Ah-ha-ha ! me laddy-buck ! Patsey, boy, 

Ye're a bowld little felly, wid all ! 
Ye're de pride of me life, and me heart's own joy ; 

Come again, little lad, whin I call. 

I'll bet the weight of dis dog in goold 

He'll do more thricks dan you ; 
He's niver the dog that's aisy to fool, 

Shure, he knows everything new. 

Phfativer I'll do whin he'll be gone, 

Be jabers I hardly know ; 
But thin, I've another, a betther wan : 

Now, faith, I'll give both a show. 



0M 




I 



(57) 



You vant to puy some notions ? 

Collar-buttons, socks, und ties? 
I sell you sheap as nefer vas ; 

Coom here look at der brice ! 
[ vas by N'y York comin', und 

I'fe got der latest sthyles ! 
For schvelef und a halef cents 

I gife you six neckties! 

Und here's a bair of handsome socks ; 

I've got plue, red, and yeller j 
I give dwo bairs of dem for a 

Co-vouter of a tollar ! 
Look at dese finest ivory bone, 

Made up by collar-buttons ; 
I geef you schwenty-four of dem 

For fife cents by de dozent. 

You don't vant somedings now? Ain't it! 

Veil, so long — here, go vay ! 
Call off dot dog ! I coom around 

Again some oder day. 
I bring you someding nice next dime; 

Yah, yah ! auf vedersehen. 
Say ! haf you got a cigarette ? 

Veil, I vill come again ! 



C58> 



There they lie, in a motley heap, 
All sorts and colors, dear and cheap — 
A pile of stubs, of wood and lead ; 
What mingled thoughts from tired head 

They've scratched! 

A bit of fun, or thought sublime, 
They helped me form the same in rhyme ; 
And may be what these poor stubs wrote. 
You may some day be glad to quote. 

Who knows? 







(S9? 



-H- 



ONE SIDE. 

On came a host of them, 
Porters in front of them, 
Newsboys behind them, 

Thirsting for plunder. 

Down the broad street they came, 
Prepared well to trap their game : 
Onward for gore they came, 

And the crowd wonder 

Why such a mighty horde 
At the best houses board. 
Making a great discord 

In the rotunda. 

Gazing out in the street. 

Looking at pretty feet. 

Flirting with each one they meet : 

Girls, stand from under ! 

And when they leave the place. 
Settle with willing grace, 
Each with a stolid face, 

Grips without number. 

Farewell, O dizzy bum ; 
Thirty days more to come 
Ere you this town will drum : 

That's good, by thunder ! 

(60) 



Oh, how you love to swell 
With this and that sweet belle ! 
The Lord knows I'll never tell — 

How many hundred. 

Dear little hearts you rob, 
Never a tearful sob ; 
Were you not such a snob, 

Less would be plundered. 

But each dog has his day : 
Drummers will have their play, 
You bet, now ; and I say 

'Taint to be wondered. 



THE OTHER SIDE. 
[A Logansport, Ind., incident.] 

Tossing on fevered bed, 
And, with an aching head, 
Heart filled with fearful dread, 

Only a drummer. 

His was a troubled life. 
Parted from faithless wife ; 
Yet, throughout all this strife. 

Only a drummer. 

Moaning his loved one's name — 
Ah ! but she never came ; 
They said that 'twas all the same - 
Only a drummer! 

Word went out on the street ; 
Comrades in council meet; 
One came with flying feet — 

Only a drummer ! 

(60 



He, listening tearfully, 
Nursed the boy carefully, 
Tended him cheerfully — 

Only a drummer! 

Had not this help been nigh, 
Chances were that he'd die. 
Who'd heave for him a sigh ? 

Only a drummer ! 




(62) 



" We come widin dese doahs to-day 
Ter praise de Lawd our God ; 
So let us bow de knee, an' pray 
Dat we may know his Word. 



" Immanuel ! de Son ob Him 
To whom we Uft our voice, 
Oh ! let dy Holy Spirit come 
An' make our hearts rejoice. 

" Jes' let your presence here to-day, 
Gib strength to one and all — 
De Christians, whedder brack or white, 
On dis terrest'ial ball. 

" Be wid us in our prayers an' songs. 
Be wid us in our fears ; 
Gib patience to us for our wrongs ; 
Gib smiles instead ob tears. 

" Hold out de hand ob fellowship 
To dem dat's pure in heart ; 
But lay de strength ob justice's grip 
On dem dat's come for sport. 

" Put power in de 'umble voice 
Ob dis dy servant yere ; 
An' make de sufferin' soul rejoice 
To speak dy name in prayer. 

(63) 



" Deal gently wid de errin' ones, 
Who strive to men' deir ways ; 
Yea, teach dem how to glorify 
Dy name in songs ob praise. 

" Wake up de slumberin' souls ob dem 
Dat backslides from de way ; 
Prepare us fo' to rise an' shine 
Upon de Jedgment Day. 



(( 



O Lawd, we ask dis in de name 

Ob One who died to sabe 
Our sjouls from endless woe an' pain^ 

When trabblin' to de grabe. 

Now lef dy Holy Sperit come 

An' bless us once again ; 
We ask dis, Heb'nly Fadder, now. 

For Jesus' sake. Amen. 

Bredderen, the Gospel moveth us 

To 'knowledge an' confess 
Our evil thoughts and evil deeds, 

Our sins and wickedness. 

'Tis better fo' de wicked man 
Who takes God's name in vain, 

Or lies, or steals from neighbor's store. 
To cleanse his heart from stain, 

By comin' right squar to de front, 
An' own up dat he's wrong : 

De Book say dat de life ob him 
Dat's righteous shall be long. 

(64) 



" Yet, 'knowledgin' dat you is wrong, 

Doaii close de trade dis time ; 

For you mus' make amen's to him 

Dat's suffered by your crime. 

" I'se talkin* to you, specially 

(I mean Charles William Penn); 
Yer played a mean an' onery trick 
Ter steal dat widder's hen. 

" Yer knowed dat she war old an' po' ; 
Now, ain't yer done got shame ? 
Ef I wus you I'd hide my head, 
An' nebber own my name. 

" Yer better take my kin' advice, 
An' head dis 'scription, now, 
Wid jes' about two dollars, fer 
Ter buy Aunt Sue a cow. 

" I'll lay de paper on de desk, 
An', while we raise a song, 
Bredderen an' sistren bring you' cash, 
An' den pass right along. 

''We'll sing de fust fo' verses 

Ob de hymn, ' Help one anodder.' 
Say, Sister Mandy Tompkins, 

Won't yer jes' wak' up you' brudder ! 

" He snorin' like he was distress' ! 
Now, bredderen, we will close. 
I'll call on brudder Jackson — No ? 
Well, den, come. Uncle Mose, 

(65) 



" An' ask a blessin' fo' us all, 
De preacher an' de tex' ; 
An' Christians, sinners, one and all, 
Be yere on Sunday next. 

*' Now may de love an' peace ob God 
Upon us all descen' 
Foreber an' foreber mo', 
Fo' Jesus' sake. Amen." 



MM 



#1^,1^; 



»iit#*l 




(66) 



Joe Brandon was a " Hoosier boy," 

From good old Indiana ; 
A strapping fellow, hale and strong, 

Son of a Richmond tanner. 
He'd roughed it with the "moss-backs'' 

In ''sixty-one and two," 
And came back home with honor, 

W hen '' U. S. G." went through. 

But in "the blue grass country," 

Way down in '' old Kaintuck," 
He met the idol of his heart 

In pretty Nellie Brock. 
She was a whistler, I tell you ! 

One of the sprightly kind, 
That have things lively all the time. 

And make the "young 'uns " mind. 

She studied a heap to entertain 

Any of Joe's old friends; 
And if she lacked in other things, 

Her graces made amends. 
Well, they married, and then settled 

Way down at Bowling Green — 
The prettiest home for miles around, 

With Nell the happy queen. 

But tricks and habits Joe acquired 

With the boys in Tennessee, 
Rather clung to him ; and 'twas pretty hard 

To shake them off— dy'e see? 

(67) 



To give the gist of the matter short, 

He hankered to be free ; 
So, the right chance offering, he booked 

In a ship just ready for sea. 

'Twas a special expedition, 

With an old friend in command, 
And little did he care or think 

How soon he'd see the land. 
'Twas a tearful parting, truly, 

And a sad one, I tell you ; 
But a sadder tale that followed, 

As you'll see before I'm through. 

The months went by, and then the years, 

And pretty little Nell 
Wept many a day, through blinding tears, 

But prayed for Joe as well. 
Then seasons came and went, you know. 

With sun and rain together — 
Old Winter, with his ice and snow, 

Then Summer's sultry weather.' 

News came at last that Joe was lost, 

At Bombay or Calcutta; 
'Tw^as whispered round from mouth to mouth 

With many a suppressed mutter. 
Poor Nell — she took it right to heart ! 

But then, long absence tended 
To make her sorrow lighter; and 

Grief was thus sooner mended. 



Twelve years passed by, and Brandon's name 

Was seldom spoken now ; 
His mem'ry dropped right out of sight ; 

Well — I can't say just how. 

(68) 



But Nell — she married once again, 
To a chap called Will Jerome j 

For old man Brock had died, and she 
Was forced to make a home. 

You. see, her Joe had left her with 

A baby at the breast, 
And now the boy was most thirteen, 

A-studying for a priest. 
So back to the old " Hoosier State " 

She went with her only son, 
To educate him, by and by, 

With a friend at Huntington. 

They settled down on the old farm, 

But built a new house there. 
And things took quite a different turn 

Than they had in many a year. 
Nell had been over to neighbor Crane's, 
. One April afternoon, 
And staid quite late — 'twas almost dusk 

Before she started home. 

They had been talking over all 

The prospects for Nell's son. 
And Mother Crane was sitting 

On the doorstep, all alone. 
Just where she had been for an hour. 

Thinking it over again, 
When just then came a great, gaunt form 

A-shambling up the lane. 

She started to go in the house 

('Twas getting pretty late), 
When something called her back — a voice 

Down by the orchard gate. 

(69) 



She turned, and, as the figure came 

Into a closer view, 
Discerned a man in sailor garb. 

With face of sunburned hue. 

He raised his hat with awkward grace, 

Yet spoke like " Hoosier " true : 
Quick as she saw his upturned face, 

It looked like one she knew. 
A hesitating glance he gave. 

Then, bending low his head 
(The while his voice recalled bygones 

To her), he plaintive said : — 

" Howdy, Missus ? Don't be afeered 

Yes, I'm a tramp, too well I knowj 
But 'n this yer county I war reared, 

'Though 'twar a right smart chance ago. 
I'd Hke ter maul up the mess o' wood 

Thet stans thar out 'n the pile. 
Don't say no, fer I mean good, 

Though my beauty '1 never spile. 

**I wouldn't Stan' har botherin' yer 

Ef hit wan't s' fer t' town, 
But I'm po'ful hungry — dy'e see? — 

'Thout a iiickle to call my own. 
An' as I kirn along by the branch, 

A-piece, or a-piece an' a half. 
Way back thar by ole Bemis's ranch, 

I heerd a youngster laugh, 

"An' hit sounded s' much like her — wal, 
My Nell, I war gwine ter say, 
Thet I follered ; an' when I got this fur 
Seemed like I orter stay. 

(70) 



Somehow or nuther I can^t g' long 

'Thout I cut thet mes o' wood • 
An', marm, ye won't think nothin' wrong 

Ef I do the job up g-ood ? 

" Mebbe ye'll gimme a snack o' grub, 

Else let the youngster out, 
So 's I kin git ter see 'im onct, 

An' jist har one child's shout. 
Hello ! thar's he — wal, now, I vow ! — 

A-stan'in' yonder by the well. 
Why, marm, thet therms my Beji ! 

Whar! whar's his mammy? whar's my Nell? 

" Ef yer want ter know whar she as was been 

Joe Brandon's wife, one day, 
I kin tell ye thet's she's married ag'in. 

An' livin' across the way. 
She waited nigh on ter thirteen year 

Fer thet ther Joe to come, 
An'.fin'ly she hitched t' t'other man, 

T' git herself a home." . 

"An' — yonder, in thet ther house, ye say? 

Along wi' another man ? 
My God! I can't, I mustn't stay! 

I'll move on as fast as I kin. 
Ah, Joe ! Why did I leave her — say? 

Oh, marm, my heart is sad ; 
But then I s'pose hits God's own will : 

I shouldn't ha' gone to bad." 

" Mebbe ye'd better wait here, now — 
'Though I dunno what I'd do. 
Its ter'ble hard, I know — poor man • 
Dear me, what a dreffulstew! 



(71) 



Now won't ye in, and Hannah '11 make 

A-drawin' o' strong black tea. 
'Twill do ye good — ye'd better in. 

You Hannah— come here to me." 

' Wait here ! No, no ! What fer, dy'e say ? 

He's a better right nor me ; 
Fer they s'posed I war lost, way off ter Bombay, 

Along wi' Montgomery. 
But no ! Lemme look at my little boy : 

Sonny, come yer ; don't fear o' me. 
(I'll remember this little spark o' joy.) 

Thar, now, I'm off ter sea." 

' Fer pity's sake, how you do talk ! 

Now, Hannah, ain't it sad ? 
Ye must be tired with yer walk : 

Dear me, it is too bad ! 
Why, bless my soul, what shall I say 

To Mrs. 'scuse me — Nell? 

I do declar' it's a sorry day : 

I'll say just what you tell ! " 

" Tell her — wal, tell her I'll think o' the heart 

As what onct beat proud fer Joe ; 
Thet I'll try ter be squar, and do my part. 

Look yer ! don't cry ma'm ; I'll go. 
Good-bye, little Ben ! Take this yer thing, 

Though I hate ter let hit go. 
'Twas yer great grammammy's weddin'-ring; 

Show hit ter mammy; she'll know. 

" I'll let thet pile o' hick'ry stan', 
Fer I ain't no use ter you 
S' long's yer neighbor's t'other man : 
I reckon I've kinder got through. 

(72) 



I've beat about the bush right smart, 

An' counted fer many a sin ; 
But ef the gate would open now, 

I reckon I'd jest walk in. 

** Fer, marm, I've toted a weary load ; 

I 'low I'm onery, too ; 
But if God '11 on'y show me the road, 

I'm willin' ter jest git through. 
Tell Nellie ter take good care o' Ben, 

An' school him right up smart ; 
An' — Benny, my boy, come yer once more ; 

Kiss Paw ! Good-bye — we part," 

The figure wandered down the lane, 

And soon passed out of sight ; 
While the quiet village sank again 

In a peaceful rest that night. 
Next morning a huckster, on his round, 

Saw in the road, by the glare of his lamp, 
A figure prostrate on the ground : 

'Twas Joe, the poor old " Hoosier " tramp. 

He'd traveled his last sad, weary mile ; 

But his soul was freed from doubt. 
On the upturned face was a troubled smile; 

And his lamp of life was out. 
Under a neighboring sugar-tree. 

They laid his tired head 
To rest, until Eternity 

Calls up the numbered dead. 



(73) 



Johannes vas der only son 

Of Heinrich Oderbracher, 
Who Hf by Bingen on der Rhine, 

Far ofer cross de vawder. 
But 'Hannes und a friend of his, 

Named Yacob Waldenhauser, 
To N'y York by dot steamboat skip, 

Came ofer last Sepnober. 

Dey boarded in Teered Afenue, 

Teerty-teerd Sdreet, — fife de nummer, — 
Und vorked by Staten Island, by der prewery. 

In der summer. 
Dis Yacob Waldenhauser lofed 

De sister of Johannes, 
Und bode de poys vas vorking hard 

To go by pardner bissness. 

Johannes lofed a madchen, too, 

So handsome as a rose, 
Mit schmall plue eyes, und flaxen hair, 

Und such a shplendid nose! 
Dis gerl vas lif by Bingen, 

Shveet Bingen on der Rhine — 
De fairest land, by all de vorld, 

On vich dot sun vas shine. 

Bode fellows jined der Shutzverein, 

Und vid dem vent, vone day. 
To haf a bicnic at der Park, 

About fife mile avay. 

(74) 



I tole you, 'Hannes look him shveet, 

Riding along dot day ! 
He got him by von shakass mule, 

Und visseled all de vay. 

Already vonce dey reach dot blace; 

Dere vas a fearful crowd, 
Und shveat vas running py his face! 

Dot band vas blaying loud. 
De day vas puddy hot, you know, 

Johannes drink much beer; 
Und den he vant to fight de crowd — 

He didn't got some fear. 

Dere vas some Irishers dot come, 

By Bowery, down dot day; 
Dey had been drinking schveetened rum^, 

Und feld yust like some blay. 
So ven dey see Johannes drunk, 

Dey t'ought dey haf a yhoke. 
By blaying vid dot shakass vonce, 

Before he vas got woke. 

For 'Hannes vas by shleepy been, 

So drunk he couldn't see; 
He'd tied der mule vid oxpenders. 

By vone pig shestnut-dree. 
Und dere himself he vas laid oud, 

Like vone prave soldier — died; 
His beer vas spilt, und of his moud 

His bipe hung py his side. 

Dose moud vas open, und he had 

A sandwich by his hand, 
Und dere vas mistard on his vest 

Dot come from Vaterland. 

(75) 



Yah ! he vas dreaming all aboud 

Dose gerl he got vone time 
Vat lif by Bingen, far away, 

Schveet Bingen on der Rhine. 

Dey tied him to der shakass' tail, 

By his oxpenders, kVick, 
Den teekled dot mule vid horse-shoe nail 

D'vas a orful, tam pad drick. 
Der shakass stood his pehind feet up, 

Und fill dose air vid noise: 
But more as he shump dose Irish laugh ; 

D'vas only fun for der poys. 

Up vent poor Hannis by der sky, 

Aboud dree hundred feet; 
Und ven he vas coom down some more, 

He landed by his seat. 
Und schvearing oud py efery dings, 

Bulled from his head vone hair ; 
Den looking round he hollerd oud, 

"Dot shakass! He vas vere?" 

Den dis member of der Shutzverein 

Lay crying vid some fears : 
Dere vasn't any vomans round 

To bade his wound mit tears. 
So he cried, " Yacob ! coom ride here, 

Und down sit by my side ; 
Hold high down by your biggest ear, 

For sure I vas gone died. 

"Write fadder I can lick dose man, 

Else I don't coom home some more; 
But tell mudder dot pehind my pants 
I vas so orful sore. 

(7^) 



Aubur Yacob, don't you gife avay 

Dis to dot gerlof mine, 
Dot lif by Vaterland, you know, 

By Bingen on der Rhine. . 

*' For by you keep dot bromise drue, 

Und don't gife me avay, 
I'll write by Henrietta vonce, 

So shure I leef to-day. 
Now helb me, Yacob, to got up, 

Und get avay from here ; 
I make it oud all ride vit you, 

Und treat to blenty beer. 

^' Ve vill go of dot hospital 

By Jersey City vonce ; 
Und don't forget me of my bipe, 

Send ofer me my trunk. 
But eef I get vonce oud, I schveas: 

I'll dook dot klup of mine, 
Und show dem Irishers I coom 

From Bingett on der Rhine. '^ 




ill) 



An infan*- lay in its cradle fair, 
With dimpled cheeks and golden hair ; 
While its plaintive cooing told so plain 
Of the old, old story over again. 

Baby's home was scanty and poor — 
There was neither a carpet nor rug on the floor i 
Papa was blind, and begged on the street, 
While mamma did sewing, to make ends meet. 

The baby grew. Soon delicate hands 
Learned to fashion gusset and bands ; 
And the work-girl now in baby we see, 
Just at the age of maturity — 

A beautiful woman, whose wondrous face 
Lent charms to a figure lacking grace ; 
But what cared he who sought to defile 
Her spotless name with his artful smile ? 

In the heart of this woman vice crept in ; 
She deeply drank from the cup of sin ; 
Then, seeking to hide her crime and shame, 
She left her home, with a tarnished name. 

Cold and wretched, with tired feet. 
Through pelting rain and driving sleet, 
She traveled a crowded thoroughfare, 
Jostled and jeered by strangers there. 

(78) 



She carried a burden of sin, tiiat night, 
As, clasping a babe to her breast, in affright, 
She stealthily creeps in the shadow I see — • 
Now reappears : her hands are free ! 

Down in the swelling tide of the bay- 
She left her life and sorrows, that day. 
Scarcely a single score and ten. 
Yet somebody's darling she once had been. 

The world was rid of one more life, 
But the gap was filled by another's strife. 
I wonder if " Peter " opened the gate, 
When somebody's darling came so late ? 

Somebody's darling she was one day, 
When a child in the cradle peaceful lay : 
Somebody's darling she might have beenj 
So open the portals, and let her in. 




f>3^ 



(79) 



jrisr i|6 lain?. 



The day had been one full of bitter strife ; 

Full many a gallant soldier gave his life 

For love of country, liberty — aye, more, 

Was Mother Earth deep dyed with martyrs' gore. 

Night drew her sable mantle o'er the scene, 
As 'twere to hide the carnage made ; and 'tween 
The hill-gaps wintry winds did blow 
A requiem to silent dead on field below. 

Now, morning sun on hill-tops snowy white, 
Shone o'er the scene with radiant beams of light, 
Bringing to weary sentinel release ; 
And for a little while earth was at peace. 

Thus will life's tearful struggle close at last ; 
Then will the light of Heaven outshine the past ; 
The patient watcher will by faith draw nigh, 
To meet the Captain of the Host on high. 




(80) 



>|ii J^ngfer. 



A gurgling stream below the mill is sought ; 
From neighb'ring tree a springing rod is brought ; 
Then barbed hook, with lead and lengthened line, 
From knotted stick, the angler doth untwine 

With care. 

The squirming annelid, on bended hook, 
Sinks deep below in fav'rite nook ; 
While, dancing on the rippled stream, 
The bob denotes if carp or beam 

. Be there. 

Now, Walton's saint for piscatorial fame 
Seeks patiently for finny game. 
Ghost of immortal Izaak ! art thou here ? 
Then, with thy valued prestige dear, 

Declare ! 

Stay ! What was that? It must be I am right ! 
For, as I live, I think it was a bite ! 
A nibble, surely. Ha, ha ! 'tis a fish ! 
See ! patience is rewarded, and my wish 

Is here. 



(8i) 



I got me by vone leedle boy, 

Und ich var Saehr Fraelich ; 
He vas my habbiness und joy, 

Dot blessed leedle Diedrich : 
Also, he vas his muder's pet, 

Und Uncle Fritz, by Leipzic. 
I'fe got vone more already yet. 

His namen, dot vas Heinrich. 

Und he vas blay mit Diedrich, yah. 

Mit marbles, tops, und toys ; 
You nefer seen vonce in your life 

Sooch funny leedle boys. 
Dey got a hen-farm of der yard, 

Mit dventy shickens in it, 
Und only vone old speckled hen, 

Mitoud a rooster by it. 

Und den dey haf a garden-blace. 

For cabbage, beets, und corn ; 
Dey dig dot up dree hundred dimes 

Between las' nide und morn 1 
Diedrich he vas my leedle boy, 

Und Heinrich (dot's his broder)- 
Vell, he vas sooch a funny shap. 

He got mashed on his moder. 

Vone of dem boys vas five years old^ 

Und so, also, vas Heinrich ; 
Dey vas ge'born de same day — 

AH togedder — him und Diedrich» 
De only drubbles dot dey haf, 

Vas, vonce dot leedle Diedrich, 
He got a gun by Vaterland — 

From Uncle Fritz, in Leipzic, 

(82) 



Dvas one of doze vat shump around, 

Und shoots q'vick plenty oud, — 
" Resolver ? " Dot's ride — how you call — 

(I know vat I'm aboud). 
Dey vas all dimes shtop by de yard, 

Ride by dot hen-coop oud ; 
Und vone day ven dey vas in dere 

I heard a fearful shoud. 

I run like somedings k'vicker — und 

I seen a orful sight ! 
Dere lay my Diedrich on de ground, 

Schreaming mit all his might ; 
Vile ofer him dot oder boy 

Vas shtand up (Dot vas Heinrich), 
Und cried out, " Fadder, come ride here I 

I've killed my broder — Diedrich ! " 

Poor leedle Diedrich vas laid oud 

Upon de green grass-plot, 
Und in de back part of his pants, 

Poor feller, he vas shot. 
Veil, you can understand de rest; 

Dot vas a fearful shance ! 
He didn't died, but moder, she — 

Half-soled und heeled his pants. 

You bet your life I feld so bad 

I cried, und den I schvore ! 
For leedle Diedrich vas so lame, 

He don't sit down some more. 
Somedimes dose drubbles vill bin gone ; 

I'll seen you vonce again, 
Und dole you more aboud it vonce : 

Yah, wohl — Aufvedersehn ! 



(83) 



J.n ^oitr Jit It '^mmr %mimt Mitt* 

In the rear of a cobbler's shop, in the little town of -, 

was the office of " Justise uv the Pease." Ranged about, 
promiscuously, were men and boys of all ages and nativity. A 
lean, lank individual answered, " Not guilty, by a durned sight, 
jedge ! " to an indictment wherein he was accused of giving a 
mug of beer to a twelve-year-old boy. The rougher element 
murmured audibly their approval, and continued to interrupt the 
"Squire," who had some difficulty in preserving order. The 
cobbler kept on pegging at his last, as unconscious of the pro- 
ceedings as if the crowd were not there. The heat was stiffing, 
and the room reeked with the fumes of tobacco. The justice 
sat with crossed legs on the table, munching an apple, while the 
defendant's counsel argued aside with the prosecutor. After 
much wrangling, the Squire fined the culprit in the sum of thirty- 
five dollars, which elicited uproarious remarks from the by- 
standers. Order was at last restored, the man was sent to the 
cooler, in default of fine-money, and the next case calkd. A 
few plain drunks, one murder case, a divorce bill, and some 
minor cases were disposed of in very much the same way, when 
all hands, including the "justise," adjourned to the "tavern," 
to get corn-juice and wrangle over the verdicts. 



(84) 



To me, oftimes, have thoughts seraphic 
(Transmitted via stylographic^ 
Swept vaunted wisdom of the sages 
From 'tween the so-called sacred pages - 

To wit: 

I've moralized, till, moralizing, 
(Each friend I owned and self despising, 
Have calmly come to this conclusion : 
Religious farce is mere delusion, 

You bet ! 

We know not what our future life ; 
So why this everlasting strife 
And canting over various creeds ? 
What silly enmity it breeds ! 

For shame 1 

Far better that we close our eyes 
To all, and hope beyond the skies 
There is a Heaven^ a home, one God ; 
And Hell IS conscience' smiting-rod. 

Why not ? 

From me you cannot take away 
The hope of rest, some future day ; 
And yet I love to linger here, 
Nor dare to trust another sphere 

Just yet ! 

C85) 



But when this great and Mighty Hand, 
Parting the veil 'twixt Canaan's land, 
Shows me the glory of that shore 
Where sin and sorrow are no more, 

I'll go ! 

For God is not a power to hate, 
Nor from our vision close the gate. 
No ! I believe that he will do 
The square thing both by me and you. 

We'll see ! 

I'll wager all I've got on earth 

That God has watched me since my birth 

For a good purpose he'd in view : 

I'll know for sure when I get through. 

Till then. Amen 




(86) 



[A parody on Barbara Frietche.] 

Soon in der morning efter a rain, 

Dere vas some feet-dracks, efer so blain, 

Oud in der pasture a mile avay, 

Vere I vent mit der cows von summer day. 

I looked up high in der mountain-top, 
Und — so helb me Moses ! — I vish I may drop 
Eef I didn't seen more as fife hundred men — 
Und I shouldn't vonder if dere vas ten. 

Ofer de hill dey vas cooming down, 

All on /^^/ into Dumfries town. 

I heered dem cooming, und shouting loud — 

Nefer I seen in my life sooch a crowd. 

Into mine eppel-orchard straight 

Dey vent (mitoud shutting open de gate). 

I called " Loweza " from der house ; 

Und she crept up shtill und shly as a mouse, 

'Till she got vidin bond a t'ousand feet 
Of de leader; und ven deir eyes did meet, 
She hollered (as only a voman knows), 
Und shumped around und shook her clothes. 

Den, leaping ofer de railroad fence, 
She gife dem plazes mit all her strength. 
Und leaning far ofer der topmost rail, 
She shouted, mit voice dot nefer fail : 

C87) 



'■'Loiveza Friebold ist my name, 
Auber macht nix aus, it's shust der same : 
Dook of you vill mine epples green, 
But of you don't vas seeck as ter tuyvel, veel seen. 

A look oi paleness, a coliky pain, 

Ofer de face of dot leader came ; 

Und he cried, " Come, poys, ve'd petter stop ; 

I'm seeck already, und vant to drow up." 

All dot day dem fellers repents — 

You should seen de crowd stretched ofer de fence : 

All dot year der tramps vent py, 

Und left dem epples hanging high. 

Loweza Friebold v 0x^(^0. vas poor; 
She's wealthy, now — don't vork some more ; 
Und ve keep a pull-dog to frighten avay 
Shust der same kind of fellers vat coom dot day. 




(88) 



^'Slh \tnir 



*' Old Reub," he is a lively coon 
Who lives in Logansport — 
Porter in " Barnett's new hotel ; ^ 
Chuck to the brim with sport. 

Strong, yet supple as a withe ; 

His frame is closely knit; 
An arm like ancient blacksmith, 

And a fund of ready wit. 

*' Raised in ole Varginny State," 
Near the famed " Blue Ridge,*' 
On Rappahannock River, 

Place called " Millers Bridge.'"' 

He was a slave " fo' de wah, 

An' wuked outen de field 
Wormin' baccy" (so he said), 

And once the hoe did wield. 

" My old Daddy, he war sold 
Fum ' Ginny to Missipp' — 
Sayin' true 'bout "tween de mouf 
An' cup dar's many a slip.' 

*' Wus five boys an' one sister 
Fo' der wah, but nary one 
Could be foun' 'cept Reub, my honey: 
I got safe Norf, sure's yo' born. 

(89) 



" 'Members when I wuked, I say, 
Long wid my ole Mars' Brown^ 
Wormin' baccy all de day 
In my little linsey gown. 

" 'Kase I war a pickanniny, 

Har'ly eben half-way growed, 
When I bin in ole Virginny ; 
Dat war fo' de corn I hoed." 

This is just what " Ole Reub" told me, 
And I doubt not what he says, 

Bearing marks of his old masters 
And the bygone slavery days. 

Corresponding with his frame. 
He has got a manly heart. 

He's my friend ; /laud his name, 
Though it only be in part. 

Should you go to " Logan " town, 
Seek ye out my sable friend ; 

Speak my name, then give your own, 
And a wilHng ear he'll lend. 

If a service you should need, 

Find this great, black Sampson true^ 

He will prove a friend indeed, 
And I'll warrant he'll please you. 



^90) 



i|f iiH. 



Below the rapids at Bellows Falls, 

An old mill stands in a shady nook ; 
And, sketching the scene, my mind recalls 

The day when the rill was a bounding brook. 
But Time has come, with remorseless hand : 

The miller is far away ; 
He labors, now, in a better land, 

And the mill will soon decay. 

The whirr and splash of the mighty wheel — 

Which labored the live-long day. 
And ground the kernels to snowy meal, 

As if 'twere naught but play — 
Is hushed. And the rippling waters glide 

By the mill, and on to the sea ; 
For 'neath an oak-tree by its side 

A new-made mound I see. 

The old and trusty miller has gone, 
And the sighing leaves do say, 
*' He'll never come back to grind the corn. 

For 'tis just a year and a day." 
" A year and a day — the miller 's dead," 

The babbling brook replies, 
" And the old oak's roots now cover his head 
See! yonder his body lies." 

A lesson I gathered from the mill, 

And the waters gliding by, 
The oak-tree down at the foot of the hill, 

Whose leaves in the wind did sigh. 

(90 



'Twas this : that the mill which, tottering, stood 
On the bank, and the leaves of the tree, 

Were at once a monument to the good, 
And the mourners, severally. 

Then the sturdy oak which shades the spot 

Where the miller is laid to rest, 
May live for awhile, but soon will rot — 

In a few short years, at the best. 
And Time shall come, and the brook still play 

With the wind and the summer rain ; 
But the water that passed by the mill that day 

Will never grind again. 

For, though strong hands another mill 

Might build on the self-same site, 
And the brook flow on beneath the hill, 

Supplied from yon mountain height, 
And Time roll on, it would naught gainsay 

To have wind and summer rain, 
For the water that passed by the mill that day. 

Will never grind again. 




(92) 



J»U Sn«rls|i|t. 



Arrah ! Kitty, me darlin', come here to my side, 

And listen to fwat I will say ; 
Shure I'll spake to ye gently, and truthfully tell 

Of a gerl I love, by the way. 

Her eyes they do sparkle wid innocent mirth, 
And her teeth are as fwite as the pearls; 

On her face is — a map of the land of her birth, 
While her hair flows in beautiful curls. 

Mavourneen ! she's dainty, and pretty, and nate ; 

She's a jewel me heart long has sought ; 
And the name of this beautiful colleen is Kate, 

Though I call her Kitty, for short. 

Now, betune ye and her, were ye placed side by side, 

The difrence I never could tell ; 
So let's call on the priest, and I'll make ye a Dride — 

For ye know that I love ye too well 

To lave Paddy Murphy, the one-eyed gossoon, 

To capture your heart — do ye see ? 
We'll go over to Cork, on the shwate honeymoon. 

And the quicker the better for me. 
Say de word now, Kitty darlin', and quickly, aroon ; 

Will ye be Mistress Kitty McCan ? 
Faugh a ballagh, acushla, shwate Erin go bragh ! 

Ye have said it, an', faith, I'm your man. 

Bad luck to Pat Murphy ; he'll luk for a fwhile 

To find a swate craythur like this. 
Lave him dance at de weddin', shure ye wouldn't mind, 

Since he looks somewhere else for his bliss. 

Then here's to ould Erin, the land of our birth, 

And de dear little shamrock so fair: 
We'll drink to her praise, and sing of your worth, 

Shwate Kitty, de belle of Kildare. 

(93) 



1|$ ^ttinrb nf ^ttnfetr fHl 

[As remembered by Jack and Jill,] 

" He lay upon his dying bed, 
[His ride eye vas put oud,] 
When, with a feeble voice, he called 

[For beer und Sauer Kraut] 
' Weep not, my boy, the veteran said, 

[Or else dot beer you sphill,] 
But quickly from yon antlers bring, 
[Dot sheese-knife by Bunker Hill.] 

" The sword was brought ; the soldier's eye 

[Dot vasn't oud, vinked hardt ; ] 
And as he grasped the ancient blade, 

[He called for a deck of cards ] 
Then said, * My boy, I leave you gold, 

[Und dricks you didn't seen ; ] 
I leave you, mark me, mark me now, 

[Dwo aces and a k'veen !] 

*' 'Twas on that dread, immortal day, 

[Ven I kip dot beanud-shtand,] 
A captain raised this blade on me, 

[But I got sight of his hand.] 
And while the glorious battle raged, 

[I didn't vas so green,] 
For, boy, the God of heaven blessed 

[Dree aces und a k'veen! ] 

(94) 



" ' Oh, keep the sword ! ' his accents broke, 

[I pawned it, und he gried ; ] 
But wrinkled hand still grasped the blade, 

[Und den he vas gone died.] 
The son remains, the sword remains, 

[I'fe got my uncle's check,] 
And twenty millions bless the sire, 

[Dot showed me by dot drick.] '* 

Ifis name, I'd have you know, is Jack, 

Und mine, of course, is Jill : 
He's told you all about a trick, 

Und me, boud Bunker Hill. 




(95; 



0i| ^irmtitt from % ^am }FrsHt|0r. 

"Bredderen, de fustly ob my tex' 

Am 'bout de brazen calf 
What Moses set up in de midst 

Ob Israel's chosen half. 
De nex'ly is de story 

'Bout dat lion in de den 
Whar Daniel done got frowed into, 

Wid seberal oder men. 

*' Now for de fustly. When dat man 

Called Moses crossed de sea, 
An' drownded all ob ' Faro's' hos', 

To set his chillen free, 
Dar 'rose a discordation 

In de once brave, happy ban- 
So much, dat all dem people 

Got to fi'tin', han' to han'. 

" Dey wanted sassafraction — yea, 

Dey t'ought dey hab deir way ; 

But Moses stop de quarrel quick, 

An' tole 'em all ter pray. 
*Dar's nuffin' mo' ter pray to/ 

Said de chillen — den dey laff; 
'Till Arion — Moses' partner — said, 
' Le's make a golding calf! * 

" ' Den we can raise him up an' pray 
Ter God, froo dis yer t'ing.' 
Joy did aboun' ; great was de noise ; 
Dey made de valley ring 

(96) 



Wid soun's ob great thanksgibin', 

An' songs ob Jubilee — • 
Dem chillen, out ob bondage, 

Done gather by de sea. 

" But soon deir joy was boun' to end ; 

Dey couldn't stan' success. 
Like ebery one ob us, dey preach 

Far from what dey profess. 
Den God, in his great wisdom, 

See fit to turn deir heart 
To trabble in de narrer road. 

An' from sich sin depart. 

" So Moses, he done gadder up 

De remnant ob his ban', 
An' tuk dem up on Oliver, 

To view de promis' Ian'. 
Dey view de Ian', den sent out spies 

To see if hit would suit. 
De spies came back wid melions, 

An' seberal oder fruit, 

" Ter show how fat de Ian' hit was, 

An' jes' dey make deir min' 
Ter settleize de country, 

God, he done make 'em blin'. 
Diskerredge' was de po' fo'lorn 

An' wicked Israelites. 
Great God ! den how de prayers went up 

To gib dem back deir sight ! 

" Dey tare roun', den, an' fill de air 
Wid bitter cussin' wild : 
An' Jeremiah done lament 
Like as he war a chile. 

(97) 



But God done make prowi.sion 
Fer dem chillen, 'dough he vex': 

You'll h'ar mo' 'bout de 'elusion, 
When I preach some future tex/ 

'^ An' now dose ob de bredderen 
Who'd like ter stay awnile, 
Can — who dat nigga laffin' ? 

Dat you, Rufus, I hear smile ? 
I tole you, sinful nigga, dar's 

No mercy fro' de Lawd 
Fo' niggas wid no sense or shame, 
Laffin' at de Holy Word. 

'' An' whedder no' ye lub de Lord, 
I trus' my words dis day 
Will open up dem do's fo' you : 
My bredderen, lef us pray. 
' Great Fadder, who doth reign above, 
Look down on us jes' now, 
An' cheer de weary, bress de weak, 
An' fo' our sins, O 'low 

" Dat we is chillen onery, po', 

An' full ob many sins ; 
O Lawd, save us a welcome seat 

When Jedgment Day begins. 
' Doan' shove de brack man off de seatj 

(No Lawd,) but teach him when 
To sing dy praisen right an' cl'ar, 

Fo' Jesus' sake. Amen.' 

"Now, bredderen, we will leave dis place, 
An' come on Sunday nex', 
To sing an' pray, an', by God's grace, 
Read de 'elusion ob my tex'." 

(98) 



One of the legion gone to his rest, 

Knight of the triad and dual-plumed crest 

Bearing Immanuel's cross on his breast, 

And on his brow 
Peace. Shall he numbered be with the blest ? 

Where's the sou/ now ? 

Only a worker in temples below, 

God will soon show him the rest, and, I trow 

His heart will then the great trestle-board know, 

And but too well. 
Will the sound of the gavel be then minded so ? 

Heaven will tell. 

Mark well the summons ; witness the sign : 

Quickly, O comrades, now fall into line. 

The High-Priest soon cometh, oh may it be mine 

To be prepared ! 
May heaven's morn on true Brothers shine — 

They who have dared. 

Bear the corpse tenderly, stately, and slow ; 
Wipe the damp moisture of death from his brow ; 
Muffle your trumpets, and sacredly blow 

His requiem. 
Now high degrees this mortal shall know : 

Peace be with him. 

Under the carpet of yonder green knoll. 

There place the body bereft of its soul; 

It heeds not the measured rhythm and the toll 

Of distant bell: 
When the portals of Paradise backward shall roll, 

May all be well! 

(99) 



He met her at the depot, Mr. Butterworth did, and she 
struck an attitude of injured innocence, remarking, " How do 
you suppose I was going to come way out here without a trunk ? 
Didn't I tell you to have your best one sent out to mother's, for 
me to pack ? " " Yes, my dear — how do you do ? Dog-gone the 

onery trunk; you're here yourself, and" " Don't you use cuss 

words to me, Nathan ! I haven't got a change of — well — things 
to my name." And here the colloquy was lost in the din and roar 
of an incoming train, while Mrs. Butterworth led off, Nathan 
slowly following toward the six-cent hack that stood on the 
crossing. About an hour later on came '''•the dog-goned omry 
trunk,'' via express, with several dollars charges. The express- 
man left it at the bottom of the stairs, where they had essayed to stop 
with an ancient aunt. Butterworth ripped his best black coat 
all up the back in getting it up stairs. The key was not to be 
found ; the locksmith would not come to the house ; there was 
no express-wagon within seven miles of the horizon in any 
direction; and — well — Nathan hired a farmer to " tote " it to 
the smithy's and back, rejoicing at last when it was finally landed 
in the spare-room destined for their headquarters over Thanks- 
giving.* With a bland and forgiving smile Mrs. B. advanced 
toward the offending trunk, a new key in hand, and attempted to 
open it. Punch — cr-r-rk-z-i-p ! — and away went the brittle key : 
at the same instant (luckily for him) Nathan shot out of the room 
and into the alley toward the woodpile. He came back slowly, 
but with fire in his eye. Not a word he uttered until within 
about ten feet of the aforesaid dog-house ; when, with a yell, 
and exclaiming " You dog-goned onery thing ! " down came an 
axe, and disclosed to view — notatrunkful of Mrs. B.'s underwear, 

(100) 



but a lot of old nasty traps — books, old collars and cuffs, a stuffed 
owl, some old suspenders, and a few nails — the discarded odds 
and ends of Nathan's dejt where he had been spending the 
summer. " Well, I'll be dog dashed all to thunder ! " exclaimed 
Mr. B.; "they have sent that cussed trunk a-clutterin' way out here 
just to make firewood with, instead of sending the one — wal,the 

one — I th-ought was — the one — I " " Merciful heavens ! 

what a loss, Nathan!" rejoined Mrs. B. "Well, you can just shell 
out, now, and fix me up new, 'cause I hain't goin' to go to Mar- 



thy's 'thout a new pair of 



Here the supper-bell, ringing 



violently, closed the argument for a short season. 




(lOl) 



J. §i^nnixt SxritopI^* 



A WALK of half a mile brought me to the station of the '*A., 
L. & St. L. R. R." Well, I mean a "pair o' bars," near which 
stood one car, with engine and tender, marked in glaring letters, 
"Express." Boarding the car, I seated in one end of the dingy 
apartment, along with perhaps twenty men and women, prehis- 
toric in appearance, and quiet as blind mice. Their furtive 
glances, however, betokened surprise ; and, averting their gaze, 
I looked toward the far-end of the ''shook." Two coffins, 
a lot of railroad-tools, freight, wood, and coal, made up the 
assortment there. Presently the conductor, brakeman, and 
newsboy (all one and the same person) approached and 
solicited my patronage. A nickle bought me the news, and I 
tried to content myself for one hour and ten minutes, while the 
train x2iVi just twenty miles. We stopped ten times on the journey; 
and as I stood on the rear end of the platform looking at the 
receding rails, they looked like a huge, crooked hair-pin in the 
distance. This road runs one train, each way, every day; will 
stop at any point in the fields or woods to take up a passenger ; 
and has been running six years. The rolling-stock consists of 
one engine and tender, one (the aforementioned) car, and one 
flat-car. Ten men constitute the entire "gang" — including 
section hands — that is employed to run it; and yet it rejoiceth 
in the name of " Anderson, Lebanon & St. Louis R. R." 
Grass grows luxuriantly between the rails, and there is but one 
depot on he entire line. One more incident of the trip is worth 
relating, — to wit : A lawyer (and he is somebody^ out here), was 
taken suddenly ill on the train. There being no convenience in 
the car for his comfort or relief, the train was stopped. He 
alighted, stepped back into the woods, and when the call of 
nature had been attended to, returned, and we proceeded on 
our journey. 

(102) 



watt$ift« ivmt. 



' The gate hangs well, 
And hinders none. 
Refresh and pay, 
Then travel on." 



This the inscription which I saw 

Upon a wayside inn at Kent : 
Good custom by this sign to draw, 

Was, doubtless, the good host's intent. . 
And drawing from this well-meant call 

A moral, to my thoughts akin, 
I tied " Old Dobbin " in the stall, 

And stepped inside this old-time Inn. 

** Gude-morrow, sir ! An' 'ow's yer 'elth ? " 
Spake the stout Saxon who came forth. 
'' Wilt bide a wee, an' loose yer wealth ? 
Hi, Ma-ry, fetch a bit o' broth, 
And a great mug arf-an'-arf. 
~ 'Ere, meister, is the week-e-ly ne-ews — 
Although, na doubt, ye've 'erd the chaff 
About the priest and widder Crew-es ?" 

"Weel, lack-a-dee! this world is queer, 

An' muckle fu' o' grief an' strife. 
Aye, meister, 'ere's yer 'elth in beer ; 

Draw up an' sip a bit, gude wife : 
This man we-11 tell us a' about 

The freshet that's gan doon the reever. 
Sir, c-o-rn an' oats is up, na doot. 

An' dearer now, I ken, than ever?" 

(103) 



" Yes, my good man," I answered him 

To many questions quaint and queer. 
I favored each and every whim, 

And paid for sundry rounds of beer. 
A pleasant hour we spent together. 

In social chat and merriment : 
We talked about the crops and weather,- 

Enjoyment was my heart's content. 

Then loosed I " Dobbin " from the stall. 

And started on my homeward way, 
Resolved that soon at " Welcome Hali '* 

I'd tarry yet, some other day. 
This moral from the sign I drew : 

That as along life's path, anon, 
We might refresh, and strength renew, 

Yet pay our score and travel on. 




(104) 



%tmn m ^nlt^m. 



Landsmen, vimm ens, und Irishers — I vas here ! Und if 
somepodies vas here dot didn't got invited, let him speak cud, 
und he'll be send for immediquickly, else sooner. I haf been 
invided here by some of de most disinfluential citizens of New 
Hafen, to undress dese peoples boud some disimportant k'ves- 
tions dot's got some relations vid side shlewers. In de fust 
blaces, dere done vas some oxpisions in my mind some more 
aboud side shlewers generally. Of vone man shlews his broder 
in de side, bedder he got struck mit a glub, ain't it ? Of anoder 
man sides vid de first shlewer, he vas a t'ief yust so bad as de 
last man in de first blaces, else he vas belong ,by der Shutzen- 
verein. Und of a man took pizens, und shlews himselkf, dot's 
vorser as der schmall-box. Dose shlewicides vas getting puddy 
k'vick common blaces by dose reasons cud already, und I vant 
to life to see dose dimes ven efry man can shtop a leedle till 
it vas come around vonce more ven he can peaceful dimes 
enshoy, und den he vas happy. Ain't it? Somedimes a man 
yumps in de vawder ; somedimes already he dook kistard-pie 
vid gorebaric by der frost on de top ; und some oder dimes he 
vas by dose sharfes how you call razor bin shlewed himsellef 
vonce already. Anoder dime he vas macht der necktie by a 
leedle rope, dot's too short for dis world's use. Und anodder 
dime bymeby he look down de sewer of a couple of barrels by a 
shot-gun dot vasn't loaded. Vonce more for de beer. I zay 
dot ven a man gets tired of life's drubbles, he look around for 
some blaces vereby he can look de vorld of his faces und say, " I 
vas puddy k'vick got droo mit id." Look yourself oud vonce, 
else bymeby you vas got by dose blaces, und haf to say vid 
de poet : — 

I vas got blenty tired oud, 
Und somedimes dink I vas gone oud j 
I vonder if der's saur-kraut 
In.Heffen? 

Dot's aboud de time dot dose rope break, und dot feller falls by 
de mud down und yumps up exclaiming, *' I vas vone tam fool 
vonce! Ain't it?" 

(io6) 



little nnix |tH> 

[An Ancient Legend.] 

Dere vas an olt voman dot lifed all alone, 
Vay down py der mill, by der dam-site : 

Many shildren she had — dere vas dwo of dem grown — 
In der cottage down mit der mill-site. 

*' Chack " vas der namen of von of der poys, 
Und " Chill " (dot's a gerl) vas anodder ; 
Und each Monday morning it vas deir hearts' choice 
To heib the oldt voman, deir mudder. 

Vone day up de hill dey vent mit a bail, 

To draw of de vater der veil oud, 
Auber shust at dot time dere arose a pig gale, 

Und plowed der shildren all around oudt. 

" Chack " stumpled down of a great pig stone 
He hoUeret oud vilt like ter tuyvel : 
He fell so hart down dot he done proke his crown; 
You should hear dot poor feller schnivel ! 

Vile " Chill " dumpled efter, — avay down der hill, — 
Und deir mudder come running avay oud 

From de houser, vich vas, as I say, py der mill, 
Right avay down dere py der dam-site. 

(107) 



She sopped und she gried, she vept und she vailed, 
To see her poor " Chackey " und " Chill." 

Dey bode vas gone died ; aubur, she safe de bail, 
Und vent pack to de oder vones, down py der mill. 

MORAL. 

Kindt friendts, a moral to dis dale 

I shust been dole you 'bond, 
Is dis : You see, she safe de bail! 

So look yoursellef vonce oud, 
As up de hill of life you go, 

Vedder py tam-site or py mill. 
Look oud vonce, else you stup you toe, 

Shust like poor "Chack und Chill.'' 




(io8) 



$t n mtint wl 



[The Hope of a Mother.] 



The roaring cataract seethes and boils, 
Plunging below, in foam recoils; 
There'll be an end to its ceaseless toils, 

After a little while : 
'Twill cease its brawl and mad turmoils, 

After a little while. 

There'll be nothing left but purling brook, 
Twisting, turning, with bend and crook; 
'Twill seek a channel through shady nook, 

After a little while : 
It will wear a calm and peaceful look, 

After a little while. 

I've stood in the shadows many years^ 

And watched so long, through blinding tears; 

There'll be an end to my doubts and fears. 

After a little while : 
My heart will lose all the grief it bears. 

After a little while. 

Life's battle, with its sorrowing pain, 
Will never more be fought again ; 
Peace will cleanse the heart of all stain, 

After a little while : 
I'll sing God's praise in rapturous strain. 

After a little while. 

(109) 



I'm going home, to a land so fair, 
To loving Shepherd's tender care ; 
I will meet my loved ones over there, 

After a little while : 
I shall no more feel the cross I bear, 

After a little while. 

The storm has ceased, and on every hand 
The clouds are rising from the land ; 
I shall see sunshine from where I stand, 

After a little while : 
Within the shadow of God's great hand. 

After a little while. 

Just after a little while, O God, 
When I am laid beneath the sod, 
I will not fear thy chastening rod, 

After a little while : 
With faltering step no more I'll plod. 

After a little while. 

Thus will the battle of my poor life — 

Which seems unending pain and strife — 

Be fraught with that peace; nor struggles rife. 

After a little while : 
There is rest for mother, child, and wife, 

After a little while. 




(no) 



%\\% l[cH! 



The weary sentinel on castle wall 
Gladly responds to guardsman's call, 
K-epeating through the palace hall, 

"All's well!" 

And on the ramparts of the quay, 

The landsman cries a lusty lay, 

Echoino; across the bay, 

" All's well ! '* 

As larboard watch the signal gave, 
High up in shroud the sailor brave, 
Sings loud and clear, across the wave, 

" A-l-l-'s well!'= 

A soldier on the tented field, 
Who swerves not from his post to yield, 
Shouts with a voice by hardship steeled, 

" All's well ! " 

Touched by remorseless hand of death, 
A comrade's brow has felt its breath ; 
The curfew slowly tolls, and saith, 

"All's well!" 

Through silent watches of the night, 
A halo, as of Heaven's light, 
Shone from a band of angels bright : 

All's well. 



(Ill) 



[To the Boys at " Barnett's," Logansport, Ind., May 6, 1881.] 

Well, boys, I'm going to leave you, 

So sing a farewell song ; 
And may the mem'ry of this night, 

Be well remembered long. 

Come, Reub', I want you over here, 

With "Billy," " Baldhead," " Coppey," too; 

And "musty'* Johnson, over there, 
Don't let the parting song fall through. 

Namesake, come you, and *' Brer " Fox, 

Stand up and join the band ; 
You, Jerry, call up "funny" Zach', 

And stand here, hand in hand. 

Where is Sol Rains ? With Dave and George? 

And that tall, one-eyed coon 
Who sings " Dem Golden Slippers," 

And the " Order of Full Moon " ? 

Come, marshal up your forces, 

Invited guests as well ; 
If brother Tutt is here, I wish 

He would his '"sperience " tell. 

rii2) 



And when we've finished up all brown, 

Sing us a warm good-night. 
I'll ne'er forget old " Logan " town, 

And all these faces bright. 

Now, when in distant lands you roam. 
Dear boys, let friendship not miscarry. 

Good-bye, kind friends; I'm going home 
Remember kindly "Hippy Harry/' 




lii3; 



If you love the weird and indescribable harmony of a true Negro Dialect JMelody, send 

for these. 




' T\ie Bedcovt Ll^hr. WVien% S undoes dou/rw 

WdKe vp in Hedvpn intfi^^noniii^ The ^redt emdnc\|?aTio^'\ . 

CVnnbiiig u[j 1lTe ^oUp^ ^\rs GrdWiels Trumlp^T- 

He\|p oY\e dnQt1\e r ^ Ddv|s gone U^ . 

<^ PViBLlSHEB BY "THETRM/ELERSPUBUSHiN&COrBOSTON ' 



POST orn cE address box »30. 



Ptiblished at a uniform price of thirty-live cents each copy, or the entire list of eight 
S. ngs for two dollars and fifty cents. Mailed free to a.ny address on receipt of price. Ad- 
dress: Travel* rs Publishing Co., Box li30, Boston. 



In relation to the Price and Terms of thi: unpretentious Volume. 

Dear Boys and all good people who squander wealth for 
*' Dialect Poems : " Many of you know full well that the price of 
this book is but a fraction of wha*" " Happy Harry " has spent in 
your company many times for social amusement; therefore 
forgive me if I refuse to be partial, and favor my friends with 
gratuitous copies. If I should serve you all the same way, the 
first edition would be out of sight before the forms were unlocked. 
Read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest the following, and be 
convinced that it is a wise plan for me to take the " bird in the 
hand " rather than trust the one "in the bush." 

FREE PASSES. 
*' In those days there were no passes given." 

" SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES." 

" Thou shalt not pass." — Numb. xx. i8. 

" Suffer not a man to pass." — Judges iii. 28. 

" The wicked shall no more pass."" — Nahum 1. 15. 

" None shall pass," — Isaiah xxxiv. 10. 

" This generation shall not pass."— Mark xiii, 30, 

" Though they roar, yet they cannot pass." — Jeremiah v. 22, 

" So he paid the fare thereof, and went." — Jonah i. 3. 

THE TEN COMMANDMENTS OF THE LANDLORD OF THE 
BANGOR HOUSE, BANGOR, MAINE. 

1. Thou shalt pay the laridlord all thou owest him, 

2. Thou shalt not steal from him, as he has nothing to lose. 

3. Thou shalt not injure his furniture, or thou shalt pay dearly therefor. 

4. Thou shalt not court any of his waiters, nor make love to the cook . 

5. Thou shalt not bellow like an ox, nor bray like an ass, in the night, to 

disturb the landlord or his guests. 

6. Thou shalt not detain the waiters, for they have many to attend. 

7. Thou shalt drink no beverages stronger than those he sells you, and 

smoke no other cigars, nor '* treat all round " on " tick ' 

8. Thou shalt not leave thy money at home, nor come short " one cent," 

for he will not hold you guiltless thereof. 

9. Thou shalt not come here to complain of the fare of any rival hotel, neither 

do the same by this. 
10. Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy; and come early for ymir 
morning '■^ beans ^'' remembering that ''''every little helps ^'* 

(105) 



» SWEET'S -<- 

INFALLIBLE - 



. • • 



■■■ LINIMENT 



A FRIEND IN NEED to all Travelers. 



For sale by Druggists and all good people generally. 



RICHARDSON & CO., Proprietors, 

NEW HAVEN, CONN, 



C3-oor) R,E.A.iDiKra- 1 



The Merchant Traveler" 



CINCINNATI, OHIO. 



The Hatghet," 



WASHINGTON, D. C. 



The Boston Commonwealth, 



5) 



BOSTON, MASS. 

Wherein will be found, from time to time, dialect stories from the pen of 
"Harry Holland." 



'*%m{nm li[tl|k" 



To please, not to offend, has been our aim : 

If undeserving praise, spare us from biame. 

For, like the Autumn leaves, these thoughts may change: 

As years come on, we m.ay with skill arrange 

Maturer, shapes, in color and design. 

So delicately traced that every line 

And shade delineate the role 

Of master hand, whose touch hath graced the whole, 

'Tis plainly seen 'twere not a studied part 
To versify such simple things. The heart, 
Indeed, responds to Nature, and the love 
Of such a god is like to that above ; 
A love which mirrors all that's beautiful 
And good, with charity for souls despicable. 
The simplest creed in old age and in youth 
Is, Deal ivHJi honor, and 7'evere the truth. 

Be just to all men, whether friend or foe. - 

Unmindful be of fate. " Hoe your own row," 
Remembering that to bear an honored name, 
Self is respected. Trust not hollow fame. 
With these thoughts, kindly meant, " Inquire within.** 
Seek for the jacket which will fit your skin ; 
Then shall your verdict rest (whate'er the cause), 
" In murmured pity or loud-roared applause." 



He that writes, or makes a feast. 

More certainly invites his judges 

Than his friends. There's not a guest 

But will find something wanting," or ill drest." 



" Authors are judged by strange, capricious rules ; 
The great ones are thought mad, the smaU ones — fools. 
Yet sure the best are most severely fated, 
For fools are only laughed at ; wits are hated." 



" What if the popular breath should damn the 
Sun in his meridian glory ? _ 

Dost thou think his beams would fall less brightly ? " 



DIALECT POEMS. 

' The printed part, tho' far too large, is less 
Than that which, yet unprinted, waits the press.' 



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